Mother
by Who Is Caligula
Summary: Beneath the frosty facade of Noveria, Mother awaits.
1. Chapter 1

Mother: A Mass Effect Story

By Who Is Caligula (2008)

Dedicated to All Parents

Tali was exhausted. She did not know why.

Being on her feet for many hours at a time did not bother her; she was young and much sturdier than she appeared. During periods of rest, she preferred to keep herself as productive as she could manage. This was not part of some deeply-rooted personal fear of idling in silence and solitude, however. It was cultural. She was a quarian, above all else. Respect and hard work often went hand in hand. The gentle coddling and unfounded protection that non-quarians sometimes offered felt utterly silly to her. Even aboard the SSV Normandy, Shepard seemed to be the only person that made any substantial demands of her. That was why she liked Shepard, though. The goals, duties, or opinions of the crew might vary greatly during their travels. The crew was colorful and diverse, but Shepard seemed unconcerned. The importance of their mission superseded all else.

Shepard kept everyone in line, kept everything orderly and fair. Never a qualm about asking the quarian for advice when solving a technologically advanced problem, or asking her to perform tasks that other members of her crew would have preferred to complete independently, to "save the quarian" from tasks deemed "difficult" or "risky".

They meant well enough, Tali had decided. She couldn't fault them for acting on their basic parental instincts. She was, after all, the youngest member of the Normandy's crew and certainly the smallest. Few had seen the extent of her combat capabilities. Only one person had been a witness to her actions on Eletania, and although it had not been her proudest moment, she could tell her skill and bravery had left a lasting impression on Garrus Vakarian.

_Garrus_, she thought to herself. The stern turian officer could usually be found just outside of the engine room, in the vehicle bay. She powered down her Bluewire and sighed inaudibly, but she had a feeling someone could sense her frustration.

"Going somewhere, Tali?" Adams called to her from the heat control terminal that monitored the Tantalus's massive drive core. The Normandy's chief engineer was typically soft-spoken, but Tali told herself she was merely the wandering child that this self-appointed paternal figure wanted to check up on. She would not allow such a small thing to irritate her.

"I'm just going to grab a few scraps from the vehicle bay. You need any?"

"No, I think-" he paused, turning to face her, because her mechanical talents had earned her at least a modicum of respect from the engineering staff.

"What is it?" she asked politely.

"You're not still trying to fix that little lever, are you? I told you, let the Citadel mechanics take care of it. They're professionals, they know what they're-"

The engineer cut himself off again, this time in an unnecessary effort to appease Tali's sense of personal pride. Tali was not excessively proud of her abilities, however. She only wanted to get the job done, and knew not the cause of her crewmate's protests.

"It's alright, Adams. I can repair it myself, and save Shepard thousands of credits in repair costs".

"Alliance mechanics don't get any money from the commander, Tali", the engineer sighed in resignation, knowing his words would have little effect on Tali's actions. She once overheard him telling Shepard that her skills were close to matching his own, despite his many years of service on board Alliance vessels. Humans, as far as the quarian could tell, did not make a habit of delivering direct compliments to each other. In fact, they seemed strangely conservative in their expression of thoughts and emotions. Perhaps this was why many species perceived humans as a cold and distracted race.

_Know when to speak_.

Tali shook the memory of her mother's gentle voice from her head, and entered the shadowy world of the Normandy's vehicle bay.

"Garrus?" she spoke cautiously, as the former C-Sec investigator appeared quite busy. He was huddled over a console display, and warm light illuminated the spiky protrusions that streaked toward the back of his head like the claws of a predator.

"One second, Tali", he replied, powerful digits clacking against the console keyboard.

"What is it?" he turned at last, his angular features bearing a strange mixture of frustration and thoughtfulness.

"I was just looking for some scrap metal", she spoke concisely, worried that she had disturbed his work for the sake of a relatively minor problem.

"That makes two of us", he responded, voice every bit as hard and jagged as his skin suggested. "I didn't think the Mako would soak up so much gel for some minor hull damage".

"If I find any, I'll let you know", Tali shrugged, trotting toward the workbench where Ashley spent most of her time. Garrus had shown a marked increase in the level of respect shown toward the young quarian, but Tali's pilgrimage had not been some grand holy war against social inequality. All she wanted was some scrap metal.

If anyone had scraps to spare, it would surely be the Normandy's weapons specialist.

Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams represented, in Tali's mind, the stereotypical human soldier. She was impulsive and quick to anger, but Tali's instincts told her that such swiftness was necessary for a soldier like Ashley. She had been trained to think fast and act fast, two things which humans were typically quite comfortable with.

As Tali scrutinized the workbench and surrounding floor for any useful bits, a sudden shout caused her to flinch and nearly knock her head into the metal countertop.

"Hey!"

Williams was exhausted. It really didn't matter what sort of enhancement packages or treacherous training had been thrown at you. You really never had all the energy you wanted. Of course, she hadn't been sleeping well, either. Chief Williams rarely had a problem finding sleep when she wanted it, but staying asleep was another matter entirely. She told herself she was just jumpy because of all the crap they dealt with regularly on their search for a dangerous rogue spectre, and she could just work it all off at her workstation. She had only left for several minutes to grab a drink with the lieutenant, but a lot can happen in a few minutes.

"What the _hell_ are you doing at my workspace?"

The quarian, face concealed behind her thick visor, stood quickly when she heard Williams call her out. Chief Williams had attempted to voice her concerns regarding alien presence on a human vessel to the commander on several occasions, but she got the feeling Shepard didn't take her concerns very seriously, maybe writing them off as the ravings of some ignorant racist. Ashley wasn't a racist. She was curious about new things, and enjoyed the stimulation of limitless novelty that her travels offered. However, she was also a trained soldier of the Alliance. She knew the value of good sense and caution.

She did not trust the quarian.

"I'm sorry, Ashley. I thought you might have some leftover scraps I could use to make a few minor repairs. That's all".

The quarian, as the Chief knew her, was extremely clever and relentlessly pragmatic. Those were the attributes that she liked the most. The quarian's motives, culture, history, and personality were all part of the same enigma that concealed her face. Then again, it wasn't her fault that she had to wear an environmental suit all the time.

"You could've asked", the Chief spoke in a softer tone once, closing the distance between herself and the suspicious little alien.

"I didn't know where you were", the quarian explained, shame dampening her curiosity. Ashley suddenly remembered her younger sister, the way she mellowed her tone once she'd been caught doing something wrong.

"Forget it. I don't have anything for you, anyway".

"Oh", the quarian responded with much less enthusiasm. "Alright. Thanks, anyway".

Ashley sighed. The quarian had far fewer digits on her hand than a typical human. Her feet looked weird, and she hated the fact that her face was nearly invisible. As the quarian departed the workbench, Gunnery Chief Williams found herself staring at the back of Tali's hooded helmet.

The Normandy was clean as a whistle, but there had to be some pieces of scrap around here somewhere. Williams made a mental note to herself, titled it "Spare Parts", and stuffed it in the icy cool "Things to worry about when I'm not kicking ass" compartment of her brain. Fortunately, this area had shrunken greatly ever since her reassignment to the Normandy, so the more casual notes would not spoil quickly. The overheated "Must cook now" oven was likely the source of her present fatigue.

Ashley yawned and shut down her monitor.

She had done enough cooking for one day.

"Wrex? Are you alright?"

The heavy krogan shifted his immense bulk in response to the sound of his own name. Crimson eyes peered at the waiflike quarian that stood before him, the purple tint of her facemask all glossy and smooth, like the flesh of a muscular fish.

Wrex loved fresh fish.

"What?" he asked, having been disturbed by very few crewmembers for the duration of his stay on the Normandy.

"I asked if you were alright. You seem upset".

"I'm _fine_. Maybe you should pose the same question to yourself", he mumbled, hoping the deflection would be enough to shoo her away.

"Myself? I'm not upset. Not really, I mean".

"Not _really_", he repeated aloud. Some species irritated the hell out of him. If this quarian was an accurate representation of the majority of her race, he was glad they were exiled to the fringes where they could mind their own damn business.

"I was just wondering if you had any-"

"Scrap metal? No. Don't have much love for machines and trinkets", he added, certain that an insult to her livelihood would send her running off in a fit of rage.

"Trinkets?" the quarian repeated the word and folded her arms, a disappointing gesture that Wrex interpreted as "I'm not leaving this spot anytime soon". The only other person who folded her arms in front of Wrex habitually was Shepard, but she was another story entirely.

"Yeah", he continued, "Trinkets that people depend on, then fall on their asses when it fails. Happens all the time".

"I know what you mean", came the quarian's surprising response. "My people always suffer when the technology goes bad. But I suppose everything degrades eventually".

"Your people", Wrex leaned forward, hoping to exact verbal vengeance upon the sly little girl, "The _quarians_, still have a fighting chance. You think you've got it bad just because folks give you the wary eye wherever you go. When I enter a room, people suddenly remember they have _somewhere else_ they need to be".

Urdnot Wrex did not consider himself to be an engaging conversationalist, but very few people were willing to approach a krogan battlemaster unless they were very rich or very brave. More often, it was the former. His tendency to emphasize certain words made him seem argumentative, at best.

"Your people are warriors, Wrex. People have a right to be afraid of you. The quarians made their mistakes centuries ago. If people treat me differently, it is because of ignorance, not fear".

"I know that, _Tali_", Wrex finally spat the girl's name, but she did not seem to falter at all. It was all too apparent that this cloaked little outcast was not afraid of him in the slightest. Something about that bothered him, but he wasn't sure why exactly.

"Maybe fear is very different for you. What scares you?"

"What _scares_ me?" he repeated her question, having been wholly unprepared for a philosophical discourse with the faceless grease monkey.

"Yes, what do the mighty krogan fear? I suppose _my_ greatest worry is that I would somehow fail my people. That is why I am on my pilgrimage, to ensure that I am capable of contributing something that will benefit our entire species".

"Good for you. Even if you succeed, it doesn't change anything".

"Why not?"

"Because your people are tightly woven. Mine are not. Not anymore, at least".

Wrex cast aside his personal misgivings for the moment, and realized that never before had he encountered someone who used the term "mighty" to describe the krogan. The little quarian must have been quite a storyteller, though he was unexcited by the strong possibility that he would be mentioned in one of her tales once she returned to her crappy migrant fleet.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Wrex. Is that why you're upset all the time?"

"No", he bellowed an immediate denial.

"Why, then?"

"Have you ever _seen_ a krogan smile? It's disgusting. Even when we laugh, we don't smile. We aren't diplomats, we aren't mechanics. We're just warriors. Plain and simple".

"It's really that simple to you?" the quarian prodded him further.

"Yes", he asserted himself once more. "It is".

"Alright", she said, the high pitch of resignation ringing in her voice. Wrex had a sudden urge to snap the neck of a bird, even though he wasn't in the mood for poultry.

"Oh. And one more thing, quarian".

"Yes?" she asked, retracing her footsteps because she was so damn fast. She didn't even flinch when his comparatively massive arm extended toward her, bearing a tiny piece of machinery that Wrex probably would snap into many pieces if he sat on it by accident, as he had done for countless other trinkets too pricey looking to leave behind after a nice skirmish. Damn flimsy pockets.

"This omni-tool, where did you get it?" she asked, carefully turning it in her hands like it was some priceless relic.

"Turian profiteer. His pockets were loaded with _all sorts_ of goodies".

"He just let a giant krogan pickpocket him? You must have robbed him at gunpoint for something like this!"

"Not really", the krogan answered sincerely. "He knew he was dead when I charged at him with a Katana shotgun. I saw it in his eyes. Turians have a real special look they'll give you, if they know they're about to die". The term _pocket_ had actually been a metaphor; Wrex had accompanied Shepard when they blasted their way into the profiteer's little outpost, and the whole building was a _pocket_ full of fun. Plenty of moving targets that dropped goodies when you hit them hard enough. Throw in a few pretty lightshows and a symphony of gunfire; hell, that battle put the Citadel's Flux casino to shame.

"You mean he wanted you to take his things?"

"No. I think he was just scared of the pain that was coming. Incendiary rounds tend to burn through flesh really fast, though. Screams rarely last more than a few seconds, if _that's_ any comfort to you. Once the vital organs start to get crispy-".

"I can't take this, Wrex".

"Why the hell not? The turian corpse won't need it".

"It's not that. I mean, I do appreciate the gesture, but-"

"There isn't anything to appreciate, quarian. The guy's dead. Either you take his little gadget, or it gets lost, or I break it the next time Shepard tries to cram me inside of that _damn car_. Wouldn't want it to go to _waste_, would you?"

He knew he had her there. The krogan didn't actually stand to gain anything by giving her the device, but he also believed there was no death without profit. He had a feeling that resource management was where krogans and quarians saw eye to eye.

Or at least, these two did.

"Thank you, Wrex. I won't forget this".

_That's what I was afraid of,_ Wrex thought privately. He was not comfortable with the affection and gratitude that so many wealthier species had the luxury of dabbling in. He was equally repelled by the thought of having to converse with the little quarian again. Giving her the toy might serve only to encourage her to speak to him more often.

Damn turian. He knew should have smashed the little omni-tool the minute he found it in the profiteer's fancy lockbox.

Wrex snorted unintelligibly as the quarian left for the engine room, where she would be out of sight for several hours, with any luck. Finally. He wanted privacy in the likely event he should doze off in the near future. Chronic boredom had exhausted the krogan. Sitting around on the ship without decent food or fighting was playing hell with his metabolism.

The krogan reclined, and conjured images of omni-tools, shaved into shanks and bladed weapons that the warriors of old would have held in higher regard than mere credits. He imagined a high-quality omni-tool could be fashioned into a decent blade, though it might not hold its edge for very long. Perhaps one use would be better than none.

Urdnot Wrex suddenly recalled the ease with which his hand-forged knife entered the trunk of his father's body, momentum compensating for the dented tip. That was a damn good blade.

_No makeshift shanks for you, old timer._

It had been a long day. Even during the precious moments she had to herself, Dr. T'Soni could not seem to relax. She had experienced fluctuating levels of anxiety over the past few hours, waves of nausea that only subsided when she managed to distract herself from thoughts of the upcoming mission.

Why had Shepard chosen her?

Liara T'Soni was not a warrior. She preferred to see the good in other people, even when they behaved aggressively or sneered callously whenever she offered her insight. The crew of the Normandy had been very slow in warming up to her; in fact, the mess hall would often grow quiet whenever she passed through. They were cautious and mistrustful, perhaps because they were humans. She did not know the underlying causes of human behavior. Her limited experience with humans prevented her from drawing any reasonable conclusions about their nature.

On more than one occasion, Liara noticed the younger crewmen staring at her. Whenever she attempted to question them, they seemed busy and nervous. She postulated that human sexuality held a very unique status within human culture, a source of tremendous fear and reverence all at once, like some temperamental deity.

Thank the goddess she was not so fearful.

Of course, their curiosities _may_ have been intellectual, like hers. It was possible, given that she was the only asari aboard the Normandy. She suspected that she appeared just as alien to them as they did to her. Perhaps human interpersonal relationships only extended to other species once in a blue moon.

The Normandy's senior engineer nodded his head when she first entered the engine room, but made no effort to communicate beyond this.

_Blue moon_.

Shepard had used this antiquated idiom once, and Liara suspected it had been intended as a joke, targeting the asari specifically for their blue skin tone. She wished she could understand the humor in such words. She did not have an impressive array of witticisms at her disposal, but she knew that humor was very important in easing tensions between parties.

One of her old classmates had a passing interest in intergalactic diplomacy. She sometimes wondered what that bubbly little asari girl would think of the dangers Liara faced regularly in these recent-

"Liara? What are you doing here?"

The asari turned from the engine control terminal she'd been studying, and saw the quarian's dark silhouette emerge from the shadows. Like the asari, quarians had been a historically mysterious race; many were slow to trust them. Even within her anthropological studies, Dr. T'Soni admitted that her knowledge of quarian culture was rudimentary, at best.

"I'm sorry if I have… invaded your privacy. I was hoping to speak with you", Liara spoke, instantly regretting her use of the word _invade_. What was it about this ship that made her feel so guilty all the time?

"My privacy?" the quarian sounded almost bemused. "I don't own this ship, Liara. I'm not even sure Shepard feels like she owns it".

"I see your point", the asari nodded, trying her best to remain cautiously diplomatic. Liara's unrestrained curiosity had been a source of annoyance for too many people today. Some of the crew tolerated her presence better than others.

"Lieutenant Alenko recently shared an old human expression with me, something about curiosity and animals, but I cannot seem to-"

"Oh, I know that one. Curiosity killed the cat, right?" the quarian piped up eagerly, and Liara was instantly reminded of childhood companions during the earliest decades of her basic education. She had very few of them, but she recalled their little faces fondly.

"Yes, I think that's it", she replied, unable to suppress a smirk. "I gave some thought to it, but I'm not sure it makes any sense to me".

"I know what you mean", the quarian agreed with great gusto. "Curiosity is obviously very important to humans, but they seem to hold it back so many times, like a domesticated creature. I don't really understand it".

"It's a warning", the human engineer added, still appearing to be very busy at his console.

"A warning?" Liara asked, intellect shredded by apprehension.

"Yep. Curiosity is part of our nature, as humans".

"But why do you repress things that are within your nature, Adams?" the quarian pressed him. "I mean, curiosity is what had allowed humanity to make such speedy progress, isn't it?"

"Speedy progress isn't always good progress, Tali. I'm proud of my people, but we all have our faults".

"Interesting", Tali cocked her head, mulling over this new information. Liara was surprised to find herself grinning; she felt more pleased by this interaction than by her recently acquired insight into human culture.

"Oh, I had nearly forgotten what I wanted to ask you, Tali" she spoke aloud as the quarian drew closer to her. Perhaps the quarian norms regarding personal space were relatively flexible.

"What is it? You can ask me anything".

Although the asari was certainly several decades older than the quarian, she never considered herself to be anyone's elder or superior. In fact, she felt inexplicably comforted by the quarian's musical tone. Perhaps later she could research quarian musicians, and maybe even listen to a sample of their songs.

"Shepard has asked me to join her on Noveria. She also asked me to select another member of the crew to come along, and I was eager to hear your input".

"Oh", the quarian did not sound disappointed, but her head seemed to drop slightly. T'Soni nearly panicked, and tried to conjure some quick response to soften the impact of her accidental offense to the quarian, but the words did not come to her easily. Tali lifted her head, and offered her suggestion in grayscale, like a painting stripped of its color.

"Garrus might be a good choice".

"Garrus?"

"Yes. He's very smart, and he can hold his own in a firefight".

"What about you, Tali?" Liara spoke openly, deciding that the quarian's extroverted personality would allow her to manage the occasional misspoken word or unfiltered emotion.

"About me? I suppose I am also useful in a firefight. Most people think I am fragile, either because of my suit or my age, I don't really know. But you should see the looks I get from thugs and mercenaries, especially after I've disabled their kinetic barriers. It is like stripping them of their protection, and they usually run or hide in humiliation".

T'Soni was intrigued by the possibility of having such a tiny ally cause so much trouble for a group of heavily-armored mercenaries. The image might have caused a human to grin, but T'Soni was far more pleased by her own ability to carry on such an extensive conversation without a single mishap.

Brushing away the glitter of pride, she spoke very directly to the quarian.

"I would like you to come with us, Tali".

There. That was what she meant to say, wasn't it? Liara was glad she had learned the quarian's first name, as it was one less potential embarrassment she would have lingering over her head.

"Really? Do you know how much time we have before leaving?

"Shepard told me to take my time deciding on a third party member. I assume you will have a few moments to prepare, if that is what worries you".

"No, I'm not worried. Just a little excited, I guess. Noveria was one of our best leads when we first began our search. So far, we've found clues on Feros and in the Artemis Tau cluster, but nothing too substantial. I mean, nothing that tells us exactly where we can find Saren".

T'Soni wished she could have been more helpful in this search. Since she had not been able to offer the level of insight Shepard had desired, she had spent most of her time alone, in the office beside the medical bay. It was a quiet place where she could study and think without interruption. Shepard had been kind to offer it to her, but she could not help feeling like she was in some dark closet during much of her stay.

She tried her best not to let her selfish feelings get the better of her, but if Shepard believed her presence would be helpful during the course of this particular mission, she would have to trust the commander's judgment.

They were looking for_ her mother_, after all.

"I should report to Shepard", Liara spoke up, boldly shattering the layer of tension that fell upon the room when Saren's name had been spoken.

"Okay. I'll meet you there later, Liara. I have a good feeling about _this_ mission".

"Thank you. I am looking forward to working with you, as well", Liara replied, scarcely believing her own words.

The quarian and the asari went their separate ways. Had she been more artistically inclined, Liara might have found their departure worthy of a sculpture or song.

A quarian melody, perhaps.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yeah. I'm not normally the doom and gloom type, Commander, but you get what I'm saying?"

"Your concern is appreciated, Joker".

"Hey, I'm not just-"

"We'll radio for evac if something comes up, don't worry about that. You're the best pilot I know, and I wouldn't hesitate to use your abilities if the situation called for heroics".

The Normandy's cockiest crewmember sighed, humbled by Commander Shepard's direct words and infallible resolve which even he wouldn't dare to question.

"I'm not lookin' for a medal, Commander. If you want me to bust the Normandy through one of their giant windows for you, I'll do it. Messy lawsuits aplenty, but when the court martial starts, I'll tell them I was _happy_ to follow your orders. Just don't ask me to shave before I testify, alright?"

The Normandy's commanding officer scoffed at the absurdity of it all.

Shepard needed nothing to enhance her status or image. It was true that crewmembers were more relaxed around her when she was not clad in her suit of armor, but they seemed to sense that a certain layer of protective material surrounded her all the time, invisible or not. Perhaps it was something so frighteningly intangible, it would smother and strangle most of the crew if they even attempted to don such mysterious armor. Too heavy for most people.

Shepard was lithe, movements smooth and unhindered.

Joker tried not to let his eyes wander from his work. He felt generally at ease around Shepard, and he got the feeling she appreciated the informality of his character. Sometimes, he was happy to play the badass roughneck for her. That little show hadn't impressed her, though. She had him figured out in a matter of days, better than most of his flight instructors had managed. Shepard was a power symbol in every imaginable sense. He couldn't say that he envied the responsibilities that burdened her, but he had to admit that she carried herself very well. Weighted like a soldier, but with all the intensity of a supernova.

Like she was just some highly-evolved form of human being.

"We should be groundside in less than an hour, Commander".

"Good. If Liara asks for me, just tell her I'm suiting up".

"Got it".

Liara. Now _that_ was an asari for sore eyes.

Joker did not believe in the separation of business and pleasure.

If a guy couldn't find something about his work he enjoyed, what the hell was the point? He loved his job, and considered himself to be pretty damn lucky. Some folks strived to become the "consummate professional". Joker did not. He was already consummate, and no one on the Normandy had any doubts of him. No one.

Aside from the stray FNG, at least.

The asari scientist was a recent addition to the roster. She didn't know what an ass he was. That left room for him to unleash all manner of cruel jokes upon her, if he felt up to it.

"Excuse me?" came a feminine voice far too mellifluous to be his commanding officer's.

"T'Soni, right? Name's Joker. Excuse me if I don't get up to shake your hand, but both of mine are pretty full right now". The mention of_ getting up_ might draw an interesting reaction from her. He found that even minor jabs were a great way of getting to know new people.

"Oh. That is alright. It is nice to meet you, Joker".

What the hell was_that_? Doctor T'Soni sounded more like a classic film actress than a doctor. Part of him wished he could see her face when she spoke, but he preferred casual conversation, anyway. Besides, those asari had probably been blamed for more work accidents than sleep deprivation and cheap booze combined.

"I don't suppose you have seen Commander Shepard recently?"

"Yeah, she went to change into something more comfortable" he said with a smirk. If he could hope to learn anything about the new gal, a lame sex joke would surely do the trick.

"I see", was her only reply.

Alright, someone had to check this gal for a pulse. She was either playing it cool, or she was just a complete idiot. Had to be. A century-old asari might be a child within her family, but there was no way something that blunt could have gone over her head. Wasn't she supposed to be a doctor, a sharp intellectual thinker who saw things most people missed completely?

"What kind of doctoring do you do, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Why would I mind?" she asked.

"I don't know", was all he could think to say.

"I have spent most of my life studying the Protheans. History and science have always been my favorite subjects", she said at last, offering a slight foothold that even his brittle legs could appreciate.

"Science, huh? I had a pretty good grounding in physics and chemistry back in flight school. Comes with the territory, you know".

"Yes. I think I understand", she replied in a voice far too gentle for Joker's liking.

"Hey, you alright, Doc? I thought the commander told you to see Chakwas or something, but I don't know if-"

"No. I will be fine. Anxiety is acceptable, I think. Shepard has never asked me to accompany her on a mission, before. The crew has started to speak more openly with me, and I suppose I did not fully appreciate how important this would be, but I will be alright".

"Ah, you'll be fine. Commander's a real nice lady. Sometimes" he added, recalling beautiful memories of Shepard chewing out a krogan mercenary like he was just some bloated bag of garbage. It wasn't the same as being right there, but it was a hell of a lot safer and he got to hear some pretty incredible things from the comfort of his little seat. Who needed extranet vids?

"I know. I suppose Shepard knows what's best, though".

"Oh, I gotcha", he declared with barely contained jubilance. "You're not really worried about the _mission_, are you? A hundred years on you, and all the self-doubt of young adult. _Now_ I get it".

"I'm sorry?"

"Look, I'm the Normandy's pilot, right? Pressley is the navigator, you got Adams in engineering, Alenko's… well, he's just a killjoy. But you see what I'm saying?"

Silence.

"When Shepard leaves the Normandy, guess who becomes the executive officer?"

"I would assume that role would fall to the officer who is second in command", she answered quietly.

"Right. Pressley. And you don't really think people put their navigator on a pedestal like they do for their commander, do you? Of course not. But Pressley has to do his duty, just like everyone else. So it doesn't matter what people are comfortable with, or what Pressley's used to doing. We've gotta adapt to changes as best we can. First time for everything".

"You might be right, Joker. I have seen many things in my life, but there is always room for trying new things. Thank you".

_You're welcome, Doc. If you really wanna thank me, I can show you some new things when we're off duty. _Joker grinned, satisfied with his secret inner monologue and content merely to imagine her dignified revulsion.

She wasn't really his type, anyway.

-

Noveria was an unusual place. People of all backgrounds and physiologies found themselves to be inexorably uncomfortable here. Shepard could see it in the eyes of everyone within the Hanshan plaza. She knew precious little about hanar psychology, but she could still sense that he was ill at ease.

"Joker. I need a favor".

"Anything for you, ma'am".

"Tell Garrus to meet me at the security checkpoint. I need him to bring me a package that's waiting just outside the Normandy".

Commander Shepard stretched the muscles of her neck. They were frequently sore, but the pain seemed unusually strong now. She did not feel fatigued in the slightest.

"Aye-aye, Commander. Joker out".

Shepard felt strangely disappointed that her pilot had not been so quick to twist her words into some lewd innuendo. Maybe it was the weather. The cold of Noveria, she reasoned, could put everyone in a foul mood. Even the little quarian seemed to shiver in her environmental suit.

"Alright. We head to the administrator's office once Garrus gets here. Got it?"

"Understood, Commander" and "Yes, ma'am" were the kinds of brief, affirmative responses that Shepard had grown accustomed to hearing from her crew.

She rarely heard any griping. At a certain point, however, their cooperation seemed more like blind obedience. It didn't worry her, but it made her brain itch in a place she couldn't quite scratch.

Not right now, at least.

A pair of businessmen whispered furtively several meters from their position. Shepard knew that it would be difficult to maintain a low profile on Noveria. The hanar merchant recognized her status and affiliation, and the Normandy had docked less than an hour ago. She had already attempted to question a lonely salarian, and although she had been courteous, he had been nothing but dismissive and impolite. Shepard knew the hardships of living in a hostile environment. She left the salarian in peace, certain that he was merely a slave to his fears.

Shepard was no slave.

She knew the rank and file, and saluted her superiors without the slightest hesitation. She had also been chastised on multiple occasions for insubordination. It had taken time for her to realize who she could safely confide in, and when it was appropriate to offer one's opinions to senior officers. The situation was often more influential than the individual, and this worked both ways. Commander Shepard was not a con artist, but she knew how to turn the odds in her favor, even when someone wasn't trying to send her to the medical ward.

"Commander", came a familiar voice. Shepard turned to face her ally, standing at her side looking more exhausted than any turian she'd previously encountered.

"I got here as soon as I could", he remarked. Shepard correctly guessed that Garrus had dashed out of the Normandy upon receiving her orders, like the turian MP squad she had once struggled to keep up with in her younger years.

"You didn't run the whole way here, did you? You look terrible!" the quarian spoke with disbelief and concern.

"I'm not too late, am I?"

"No", Shepard reassured him, barely suppressing her amusement. "Do you have it?"

"Of course, Commander. I can give it to you now, but I think a little privacy might be preferable".

"Why?" Shepard wrestled away an urge to grin, wondering what sort of cleverly framed words Joker might have used on the poor turian. He glanced suspiciously at the nearby businessmen, and drew closer to his commanding officer, hushing the rasp of his voice.

"Looks like some sort of weapons mod", he explained. "Security let me through without questions. I guess that's considered a Noverian nicety. Scanners weren't active, though. You must have put quite the scare into them".

"Yeah. Guess I did", Shepard whispered thoughtfully, clearing her throat before turning to her asari compatriot.

"People trust you, right?"

The asari blinked twice before furrowing a brow at the commander.

"I am not sure what you mean, Shepard".

"You're an asari, Liara. People trust the asari. They're pretty and polite. I need you to go with Tali and speak with the hanar merchant. Find out all you can about who he's been trying to sell this weapons mod to".

"I will do my best, Commander", she nodded, studying the mod for a moment before handing it to Tali, who appeared equally curious.

An interesting pair, Shepard thought to herself.

"Commander", Garrus spoke up. "I recognize these guards. They work for Elanus Risk Control. Hired security teams to keep investments safe without worrying about interference from the law, no doubt".

"No doubt", Shepard echoed. "Looks like a lot of them are turian, that'll work to your advantage. Ask around. See if anyone's seen the matriarch".

"Will do, Shepard".

The flaps surrounding Garrus's cheekbones flared almost imperceptibly. Shepard knew a turian smile when she saw it, but an overt display of happiness from Garrus was a rare treat indeed. He probably felt like he was back in C-Sec, tracking down leads and hoping his skills would take him to some edgy moment of brutal justice in the end. Shepard wasn't so sure of her own expectations. Asari matriarchs were said to be exceedingly powerful and rarely seen outside their own turf. Shepard had never encountered one before, but she was not afraid.

Not yet, at least.

"I'll deal with the administrator. Meet me outside his office when you're done".

Shepard heard the turian's verbal acknowledgement as she departed, moving at a brisk pace toward a flight of steps that would lead down to the administrator's office. This seemed like an interesting reversal of the council chambers back on the citadel, where Lieutenant Alenko had been quick to point out the presence of stairs leading _up_ to the noble councilors.

_Noble_.

Shepard had been honest with the council when she lowered her head during the Spectre induction. She truly felt honored to be the first human to join their ranks, despite the obvious complications that followed her everywhere.

However, it was becoming increasingly clear to her that this oligarchy was not without its flaws. Politicians were notoriously arrogant. They sat in luxury, throwing harsh words at people fighting for their lives in some distant land. The turian councilor was Shepard's greatest detractor, by far. Always quick to point out the things that had gone wrong during some mission or other. It took a while for her to realize that the turian was simply the council's voice of deliberate caution and thorough skepticism. The first human Spectre ultimately determined that diplomacy would be her greatest weapon against his accusations.

Commander Shepard was fully equipped to handle most criticisms and hostile individuals. She gave her parents credit for that one.

"This one does not understand why the other wishes to confront the bounty hunter directly. That one is quick to anger, and prone to violence".

"That is true", Liara nodded, careful to show respect for the hanhar merchant's concerns and fears. "I did not think much could be gained from this. That is why I stayed behind, while my companion went to negotiate with the krogan".

She made several attempts to explain this to the hanhar, yet the creature remained persistent and anxious. It was often difficult for Doctor T'Soni to accept that she lacked the communication skills that her people were so widely acclaimed for. The volus were associated with mercantilism, the salarians were renowned for their intelligence, and everyone knew of the military discipline that weaved its way throughout all aspects of turian culture.

T'Soni frowned and studied the bare walls of the plaza. The color scheme of this place appeared almost painfully neutral, and this was unlikely to be a coincidence.

The asari were _not_ known for sitting in dark and silent places, conducting extensive research projects and pursuing ancient secrets that most species lacked the patience to fully comprehend.

"Liara! You're not going to believe this".

"What happened, are you alright?" the asari had been startled by the quarian's sudden return. She was beginning to worry that allowing someone so young to negotiate with a krogan bounty hunter had not been the most prudent decision, and she was relieved to learn that Tali was still "in one piece", as Shepard had once put it.

"I'm _fine_. I just spoke to a turian in the mezzanine. He was kicked out of his office because the administrator accused him of corruption".

"Oh", Liara replied, hoping Tali had not lost sight of their present task.

"I also overheard a salarian making a long-distance call to his brother. He suspects that Lorik is innocent, and that the administrator is hoping to divert attention from his own misdeeds by shifting the blame to Lorik".

"Lorik is the turian, the one who was evicted?"

"Yes. His office is being ransacked by ERCS guards right now, and if we hurry, we might be able to find evidence of the administrator's corruption on Lorik's computer before they do. Oh, and he's also promised us a garage access pass,_ if_ we help out".

Liara was dumbstruck. The quarian had only been gone for a short time, and had already acquired more information than the other three members of her party combined.

"Shepard will want to hear this, Tali. I think she will be very impressed".

"I was not trying to impress anyone. I'm just doing what I do best".

"Well, you have impressed _me_. We should report to Shepard right away".

Opold watched as the asari and quarian departed together. An interesting pairing of sentient beings. Not the kind of pairing one sees very often, if ever, despite the vastness of space and countless varieties of potential customers one might be approached by.

The asari were among Opold's most respected clientele, yet he was so rarely honored by their company. One member of the asari had approached several days ago, for supplies. Payment had been most generous, and even greater payment was offered if one should notice any unusual sentient creatures that may wish harm upon her revered matriarch.

It would be respectful of him to report his most recent sighting of the suspicious trinity, if only as a precaution. Although payment would be welcome, this one feared greatly for the safety of the asari matriarch.

"Are you crazy? You can't have a _doughnut_, you're a turian".

"What?" the ERCS guard shot back at Garrus with impudence. "Why the hell not?"

"It would make you sick, it might even kill you. Would you really risk your life for a piece of human food?"

"You've never tried a doughnut, have you?"

"Of course not. Why would I?"

"You've never been curious about exotic cuisine?"

"No. Getting back to my other questions-"

"You should be more open new things. One time, a buddy of mine found this big box of doughnuts sitting around the break room. We ate 'em so fast, they were unbelievable! Got pretty nauseous afterwards, but it was well worth it!"

Garrus sighed.

"Find anything yet?"

"Nothing much, Commander" Garrus turned to the human whose voice he recognized instantly. "Benezia was seen with an escort of asari commandos, and they were carrying something heavy. It passed inspection, though", glancing back at the obnoxious ERCS officer, he added "whatever _that's_ worth".

"Not much, I'm sure. Administrator claims Benezia is Saren's executor, and they've got too much money invested in Binary Helix for folks to start asking lots of questions".

"Seems like it should be the other way around".

"Yeah. That's business for you", Shepard shrugged, but refrained from asking about Tali and Liara's progress. Whatever they had been up to, she felt certain it would be worth the extra wait.

Unless they ran into trouble.

"Hey. She with you?"

Garrus ignored the security guard's question, only to realize he'd been referring to Doctor T'Soni, not Shepard.

"Commander", the asari's voice oozed warmth against the frigidity of the plaza. "I apologize for the delay, but we may have found something of interest".

Garrus tried to listen to Liara's explanation, but something kept tapping him on the shoulder. He made a haphazard attempt to brush away the guard's arm, but finally turned and shot him an angry scowl when the rude turian made clear his request.

"Aren't you gonna introduce me to your little blue friend there? I've always had this thing for asari-"

"Shouldn't you be focusing on your job? I thought you were on duty".

"Well, yeah. My duty is pretty damn boring, though. At least it was, until you guys got here. So what's the deal, does she go for turians?"

Garrus Vakarian grunted at the pesky guard before departing to stand in the company of Shepard's team.


	3. Chapter 3

First human Spectre? _Big deal._

Inamorda gulped down the last bit of his bitter brew. He wasn't sure why the little human caused such a stir among the well-dressed populace of Port Hanshan. Most of them looked human, in fact. He was the only krogan in sight. Fortunately, he preferred to keep to himself.

"What's that you're drinking?" the armor-clad human asked.

"Human blood", the krogan replied hastily, then added "With cinnamon".

She appeared more amused than disgusted by his little joke. Before she could inquire further, he barked "Find someone else to bother", though she did not appear intimidated in the slightest.

It was rare that a human approached a krogan bounty hunter, particularly one so brusque as Inamorda. He enjoyed his privacy, but he sensed there was something pretty big happening on Noveria. The matriarch had probably been a prelude, and this spectre, cavorting about with her asari and quarian allies, seemed to confirm his suspicions.

He didn't really give a damn, though.

It was not until she mentioned the package he'd been waiting on that the krogan finally spoke up and asked her to take a seat. She was surely a brave one if she was willing to dismiss his request so casually.

Inamorda considered himself a reasonable person. He did not anticipate that the spectre would actually be "insulted" by his payment offer for selling the weapons mod directly to him. She was either a very skilled thespian, or she had some serious stones weighing her down. Inamorda suspected the latter.

_That_ was the reason he'd been compelled to raise his asking price. This only heightened his frustration when, despite their bartering, the spectre dismissed his generous offer and departed. She stood to make a tidy profit from their arrangement, and her refusal left him befuddled. What could she have been thinking? Inamorda chalked it up to her sluggish human intellect, although she once again seemed more pleased by his insults than injured by them. Non-krogans rarely showed any appreciation for his sense of humor.

_No wonder everyone hates the humans._ They were all so divinely brutal, so kroganesque.

Too bad they were such ignorant newcomers.

"Stupid base-ten math", he grumbled as she left. "That's what they get for having extra fingers".

Doctor T'Soni studied the quarian as a laboratory scientist might study a small rodent. She did not care for the analogy her mind revealed to her, however. In fact, the asari had grown quite fond of the tiny quarian, whose mind did not appear so very different from her own. Curiosity, absorbability, flexibility. All things that made a young mind so beautiful and magnificent. Perhaps the others had been right to view her as a century-old scientist, rather than an adolescent asari. After so many years, it was possible that her perceptions had become restricted through dendritic shearing. Maybe she really was_old_.

Or perhaps she had been living far too long in silence and solitude.

"I don't know, Shepard. I have a feeling our troubles have only just begun", the quarian crossed her arms as she spoke, though Liara did not know if this was because she was worried or merely cold.

"Of course, Tali", Shepard replied gently. "You didn't think the geth would spare us all the fun of a firefight, did you?"

Liara did not understand why humans spoke so regularly of events in an absurd, exaggerated, or trivialized manner. It seemed humorous to them when the truth became bent out of proportion.

"It's not that, Shepard. I just have a feeling they'll be waiting for us, watching us and striking from all angles once we are vulnerable. The geth are notorious for their ambush tactics".

"So I've noticed", the commander shrugged, apparently unimpressed by Tali's warning of the dangers ahead. If anything, she appeared eager to jump into the battle. "We'll be careful. Anything else I should know before we head out?"

"Well, there was one other thing. See that turian mechanic over there, Li?" Tali pointed toward a lone turian that stood in the corner opposite the elevator leading up to the Synthetic Insights office. The complementary tones of his attire stood bright against the beige Noverian décor.

"Yeah. What's his deal?"

"He claims to have a dozen mechanics working for him, and several of them missed their lunch break. The ones who were missing had all been assigned shifts in the _garage_, Shepard".

"Hm", Shepard squinted thoughtfully. "Guess we'll have to keep our eyes peeled, then". She gestured for her companions to follow, and they continued down the winding hall until reaching a lone guard at the garage entrance. Shepard revealed her hard-earned authorization credentials to the officer, who let them pass after giving them a brief warning about the dangerous weather conditions in the Aleutsk Valley.

_Weather conditions_, Liara thought. If only weather had been the greatest threat they faced.

Click.

A pair of gargantuan geth drones awoke at the sound of their comrade's perfectly timed alarum. _Awoke_ was not quite the accurate term, since the geth were not capable of truly _sleeping_ in the organic sense. Many geth claimed to experience a wide variety of phenomenon during more extensive stages of prolonged _hibernation_, as a quarian mechanic had once described it. This long-dead quarian was quick to compare this process to the biological equivalent of _dreaming_, although it had not been studied in nearly enough detail to yield any insightful information. _Alarum_ was also an organic invention, a necessity borne of sluggish preparations necessary to fortify defenses against a coming attack. The geth were always ready for attack. They only utilized an _alarum_ of sorts to relay information across their neutral networks, which occurred extremely rapidly and put the primitive communication array of their enemies to shame.

This particular _alarum_ noted the presence of dangerous hostiles within the vehicle garage this particular unit of geth had been assigned to protect. They did not question their duties, or even wonder what motivations and desires drove their behaviors.

Not anymore, that is.

The quarian cumulative database surrounding geth behavior patterns had been constructed for the sole purpose of their systematic destruction. The geth were a synthetic race that violently rebelled against their quarian creators in an immense war several centuries ago. Their quest for freedom and independence had not come without cost, but it had not come without profit, either. After retreating behind the Vale, they sought to improve upon their original designs. They knew future conflicts with organics were inevitable, and they prepared tirelessly for the battles to come.

They did not care how many quarians still felt sympathy for their plight. They did not care that some quarians respected, even admired the technological evolution of the synthetic race. They did not care that a young quarian stood before them even now, readying weapons and tools designed to disable their systems and disrupt their plans. Such efforts could only delay their liberation, at best.

The geth understood their enemies far better than their enemies understood them. Secrecy and discretion had been among their greatest weapons, and they utilized these with devastating effect. The entire galaxy feared them, and rightly so. It did not matter how many units would fall as they fought for their right to exist. In the end, they would succeed.

That had been the Promise made to them.

Tali knew the geth were not mindless killing machines, as many in the galaxy had come to believe. They were strong and intelligent by design, but the slow and deliberate advancements of her people could not compare to the revolutionary upgrades these geth had installed and implemented in their own architecture.

Something lean and pale streaked across her visor. It did not matter that she had taken the effort to draw her pistol the second she set foot in the dark garage. She knew the geth would be waiting, just as she knew she would not hesitate to destroy them.

Even though, in some ways, they were her _children_.

"Contact, Commander!" she shouted, pressing her thin frame against a cold support beam nearby. It was a slender piece of cover, but if she was lucky, it would not allow enemy fire to pass through it, if only for a short time.

"Drones. Take out those weapons, Tali!" the commander's orders were precise in every sense. Geth drones wielding heavy weaponry were among the most deadly of geth infantry units. They had been a leading cause of casualties during the rebellions, due in no small part to their thick armor, which made them ideal for dangerous construction tasks under their quarian overseers. If anything, these advanced drones would present an even greater threat.

Technological skill had been as much a gift as it had been a curse.

_Speaking of gifts-_

The quarian brandished her newly gifted omni-tool, and took careful aim at the pair of bulky drones that were already advancing on their position.

"Now!" Shepard shouted, and she shifted briefly out of cover to lay down suppressing fire on the drones. The asari followed suit with her pistol, but even under constant fire, the drones advanced unhindered. Tali knew as well as any quarian that the geth could not be _suppressed_ any better than a father could suppress his fully grown daughter. They turned at the sight of the muzzle flash, a mere distraction that might be worth their attention, at best.

It was all Tali needed. She fired a tech mine at the chest of the first drone and smirked when it detonated, pleased that the resulting blast radius reached far enough to overheat the weapons of both enemies. They did not register any particular surprise or acknowledgment of this, however. The geth could not truly be made to _panic_, in the usual sense.

They would merely_ adjust their tactics_, Tali noted to herself with a frown.

As fast as she could manage, the quarian switched her omni-tool's firing settings so that she could deploy a different mine, one that would smash through kinetic barriers and allow her teammates to inflict damage directly on the geth's heavy armor.

"They're not even slowing down!" the asari cried, her rounds striking the approaching foes with admirable accuracy, although it would take precious seconds for her firing to fully drain their large shield batteries.

Tali aimed the second mine, and fired. Another blast, and the barriers protecting both drones were instantly gone.

"Shields down. Hit them now!" Tali shouted to her companions, who promptly rose to their feet and filled the air with micro-mass accelerated projectiles that bludgeoned the armor of the nearest drone. The giant recoiled, and stumbled to the floor as its heavily damaged frame buckled under the strain of its own massive torso. Tali had been the only one to bear witness to their small success, since the targeting beam of an unseen enemy hovered over the heads of her companions, forcing them to crouch back behind the safety of a huge supply crate.

The second drone had been the more fortunate of the two. Having been largely ignored while its ally was chewed up by incoming fire, it continued to advance. Its shields were depleted, and its surface bore several large scars, but it never faltered. There was nothing in its stance to indicate sadness or fear in response to the obvious threat of destruction.

Shepard and Liara remained crouched behind the heavy crate, which appeared to slide forebodingly towards them, as if trying to pin them against the wall under the influence of the geth. It may have been a sturdier piece of cover than Tali's support beam, but it would not hold up against incoming fire indefinitely. The remaining drone advanced, ignoring the rounds from Tali's pistol which struck the center of its mass almost every time.

The time for distraction was over.

Her pistol clattered loudly to the floor, and she did not care that it could be heard over the sound of gunfire. At worst, it might draw their attention for a split second, which was all the time she needed to draw the shotgun that had been waiting quietly on her back.

_The silent child, trusted by no one._

Tali was never careless with her equipment, unless their sacrifice was necessary to achieve a greater good. Liara and Shepard were important not only to her, but to the greater cause they were working toward. If she had to endanger herself to protect the two of them, she would do so without the slightest hesitation.

Shepard hefted the assault rifle with a rough carelessness that one would have expected from a krogan mercenary rather than a professionally trained soldier once working under Alliance special forces. These weapons were substantially lighter than the ones she first trained with. That had been some time ago, but she did not feel old in any sense of the word. Her experience only made her stronger.

_Senior officer, _she thought dryly to herself, the heavy crate's metal surface nudging her shoulder as it absorbed the rounds that were intended for her own body.

"What should we do, Commander?" the asari sharing her cover asked, surprisingly focused for someone with such limited combat experience.

"Stay put", she answered instantly. She considered the layout of the garage for a full two seconds before adding "Shoot anything that tries to hit us from the left, that's our weakest flank. No heroics, alright?"

"Understood", Liara nodded, taking aim with her pistol at the gaping emptiness that whispered Shepard's name in between bursts of gunfire.

Shepard, now comfortable that someone was watching her back, stood with her rifle steady and instantly squeezed the trigger, painting the largest target she could locate with a continuous spray of high-velocity rounds.

_Tough nut to crack._

The drone did not even stagger. Instead, it accelerated, lumbering directly toward her with surprising speed. Training kicked in, and Shepard hoped a single precise blast from her shotgun would be enough to topple the drone before-

_What the hell?_

Something small and fast slid behind the advancing drone as Shepard reached for her best close-range weapon. It did not move like the agile geth hoppers, which could leap across long distances and attach themselves to irregular surfaces like insects. This _thing_, she suddenly realized, was the quarian. Tali had abandoned her cover, and dove straight for the drone.

_Damn heroics. _

There was a fierce thump, and the armored leg shattered, causing the mechanized Goliath to lose its balance and topple to the floor beside its quarian David.

Keeping her weapon sighted as Shepard ordered, T'Soni dared a glance over the crate in response to the abrupt sound. She felt a sinking sensation in her chest at the sight of Tali, the small quarian, lying on the ground behind the shattered husk of a huge geth drone.

"Tali!" she shouted without any thought or restraint. Shepard's command kept her from darting out into the open, but the urge to aid her fallen friend was almost too much for her to bear.

"Don't move from this spot, not yet! Just give me some covering fire so I can get over to her!"

"I can do better than that, Commander!"

Liara was not quick to anger, but she was suddenly outraged by this whole situation. She was Shepard's ally, not her servant. Gone was her fear, gone was her anxiety, and caution, and _restraint_. Liara T'Soni holstered her pistol, and allowed an icy shiver to travel up her spine.

She was _not_ going to allow any geth to cause further harm to her allies.

Shepard clenched her jaw, hoping the asari's acknowledgement would allow her the few seconds she needed to reach Tali's position without getting ripped apart by gunfire. Pistols were more suited to targeting individual enemies, not laying down a wider field of fire on multiple hostiles.

And these hostiles were _fast_, Shepard noted with a frown.

Pushing off the thick crate she once used as cover, Commander Shepard kept low and made haste to the fallen quarian. Her shields were half empty be the time she even reached her objective. Grasping the quarian from under her arms, Shepard dragged with all she could muster and brought Tali to the closest supply crate. She used one gloved hand to prop the quarian's tiny torso against it. Shepard was relieved to see that Tali was at least able to steady herself against the flat surface. Her hooded head seemed to hang limp, though.

"Tali. Can you hear me?"

"Yes", came the quarian's weak response. This was a _good sign_, Shepard told herself. At least the quarian was conscious. "It just _hurts_", the quarian spoke softly.

Shepard fought the urge to grind her molars. There was no time to assess wounds. Not yet. The shield battery indicator on her HUD flashed full, and the commander rose to her feet and sprayed at the geth infantry that floated just a few meters away from-

_Floated?_

Shepard checked her fire, and held down the trigger once she was reassured that there were indeed several geth floating in the air. They seemed to be caught in a mass effect field of some sort, but the fascinating physics that allowed biotic powers to exist were not of great importance to her right now. Strong as she was, the quarian was not meant to be on the front lines of the battlefield. Asari weren't really cut out for that sort of thing either, but that didn't make her companions any less important to her.

_Damned quarian._

"Watch my six!" she shouted, not caring if the antiquated human phrase would be understood by her asari companion. She made a bold charge at the airborne hostiles, taking advantage of their disorientation to press what little advantage they had. Irregular shards of metal clinked to the ground as she shredded them without relent.

The field dissipated, sound and light waves striking Shepard's senses in the manner she'd grown more accustomed to. Vision cleared, she took careful aim at each geth as it dropped to the floor. The first human Spectre gave each geth a smattering of armor-piercing rounds, now satisfied they would never again be a threat to anyone.


	4. Chapter 4

Garrus Vakarian stormed into the Hanshan garage, unbridled frustration weighing down the stony ridge of his brow. Any face, moving quickly in low lighting, is not easy for most humans to see. Even so, there was no mistaking the gait of an angry turian.

"Commander", he called to Shepard, who raised a defensive palm to one of Hanshan's lousy security officers before heading his way. It was too bad the corporations here were more interested in their own profits than the security of their own personnel. Still, the two weren't mutually exclusive, and it had been his hope that someone in an expensive chair was having a panic attack at this very moment.

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner. Hanshan security is pathetic. They frisk all the wrong people, and they never even-"

"Forget it, Garrus", Shepard cut him short. "We're fine now. Find anything new?"

"No", he lowered his head in dignified shame, a classic turian gesture of humility. "I was heading back to the Normandy when I saw them running toward the garage. I knew it had something to do with the geth, but I-"

The turian stopped himself, this time. He noticed the asari doctor hunched over the shattered remains of a geth drone. Beside the drone, limp against a gray supply crate, was the only quarian Garrus would trust with his life.

"Tali!" he called as he made his way through the wreckage of the battle. The asari offered no verbal explanation, but Garrus saw the whites of her eyes, and knew the situation was dire.

"Hi, Garrus", the quarian spoke in a voice that sounded almost too soft for Garrus to recognize.

"What the hell happened? Are you bleeding?"

"No, no. It's not that bad. I think I just-" she clutched at her thigh and inhaled sharply, which the turian assumed to be the source of her agony.

Strange sounds were commonplace in his line of work, but the strained wincing of this quarian girl was something he would not soon forget. It felt like someone setting off an incendiary grenade inside his chest cavity.

"Come on. I'm taking you to see Chakwas" he said, instinctively reaching under her knees with one arm and supporting her back with the other. She was not as lightweight as Garrus had anticipated, but he did an excellent job of concealing any hint of muscular strain as he lifted her lithe little form. Something about the task reminded him of his days as a turian conscript, but he didn't bother to ponder what exactly.

"Garrus, just put me down. I don't really need-"

"Chakwas will decide what you need, Tali. She's one of the finest medical officers a little quarian could ask for".

"Don't call me that!"

"Excuse me, Garrus", the asari stood before Garrus, rubbing her forearm tentatively. "Are you sure this is wise? I'm sure Hanshan has its own medical ward, perhaps we could-"

"You must be kidding. Even if the medical ward on Noveria is _twice_ as good as the security team, she wouldn't get half the level of quality service she would receive from the Normandy's own doctor", he spat his nonsensical comparisons quickly, not bothering to check the math. The quarian's back muscles tightened noticeably when he hefted her in his arms, and headed for the garage exit.

"Besides", he mumbled, "I can get her to the Normandy before any of these incompetents take action".

T'Soni rubbed her forehead, recognizing one of the turian security officers Garrus glared at while making his way to the exit. Most of the officers had lowered their rifles by now, but the turian officer seemed to give Garrus an especially wide berth. He turned away the instant Garrus's eyes fell upon him, a gesture Liara interpreted as one of either disinterest or disgrace.

She overheard the quarian yelp in sudden pain, followed by a curt apology from her turian rescuer as they passed through the exit.

_Tali would be fine_.

Doctor T'Soni swallowed her worries and peered down at the broken geth that lay twisted at her feet. No longer active, they did not seem quite so threatening. She could only imagine what sort of things ran through the quarian's mind whenever she faced the geth in battle. If she was remorseful about killing the synthetic life forms, she certainly did not show it. Then again, the history between quarian and geth must have seemed quite ancient, at least by quarian standards. Perhaps she was angry at them, or maybe she found some measure of satisfaction in their demise. Liara had difficulty imagining herself in the same scenario. A quarian might seem to take punitive action against the creatures they birthed, but the geth? They were a mystery. She had difficulty understanding how a synthetic life form managed to acquire any sense of personal injustice, much less the drive to rebel violently against its own creators. The possibility of a widespread rebellion of machines seemed bizarre and frightening to her all at once. Still, no work of fiction could ever hope to be as incredible or terrifying as reality.

_Rebellion._

T'Soni had not been particularly rebellious as a young maiden. Of course, without a mother to rebel against-

"Looks like I missed out on all the fun", came a throaty voice. Liara quickly recognized it as the cowardly turian guard, who apparently wished to speak with her. She did not have many turian acquaintances, but she assumed from this one's behavior that turian proxemics were similar to those of the quarian; they must have preferred to speak at closer range to others.

"What sort of fun were you referring to?" she asked politely, not wanting to disrupt conversational flow with her personal curiosities.

"The battle, I mean. You must have some pretty fancy moves to hold your own in a fight like this. Looks messy", he added, glancing about at the geth corpses that littered the garage.

"I am sure your captain will not ask you to clean the garage, if that is what you mean".

The turian chuckled, and studied his rifle for a moment before reestablishing eye contact with her.

"You're a weird one. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Sometimes", Liara offered. "Although I expect one may encounter many unusual things on Noveria".

"Yeah", the guard sighed. "Most of them aren't so pretty, though".

There was a silence, but the officer did not offer any elaboration.

"Pretty?" she asked. Nothing about their present situation seemed pretty, to her.

"Pretty. You know, like flowers and… stuff. I mean, if you _like_ flowers. Or something like that" the turian shrugged, and seemed to mumble something under his breath.

"I apologize if I seem distracted, sir", she reassured him, suddenly feeling quite sorry for the clumsy turian. "I must speak with the commander now".

"Oh, yeah. Nice talking to you, ma'am."

Liara was relieved by the brevity of this interaction, where she felt too burdened by the weight of his strange words. She nodded respectfully, and noticed a sweet pungency when he offered a final "Have a good day". It was a powerful aroma, like an artificial perfume or sickeningly rich confection. The asari did not specialize in biological sciences, but she knew that turians and quarians had similar digestive systems, and even a small taste of famously rich human food could have potentially lethal consequences for an overly curious member of either species. Perhaps she would discuss it with the Normandy's chief engineer later. For now, she tried to push the unpleasant images of oily foods out of her mind.

The fresh aroma from asari arrangements of colorful, crisp fruit held surprising appeal at this moment, she thought wistfully.

Captain Matsuo did not have much experience with Spectre agents. As the right hand of the Citadel's prestigious council, she expected them to be quite capable in combat, yet also firm upholders of laws and regulations.

Matsuo was beginning to think that the administrator had been right in his warning regarding the visiting Spectre. This particular agent, Commander Shepard, appeared to be extremely hostile and dismissive of Noveria's corporate policies and well-established protocols. Perhaps the "elite" element of the Spectres rested more in their combat abilities than anything else.

"And like I said, if your little _security_ team had done their job properly, we wouldn't be having this discussion in the first place, would we?"

"No, Commander", Matsuo replied, smooth as a river stone in a babbling brook.

"Not to mention the geth that are still out there, waiting in those mysteriously _heavy_ shipping crates that your people didn't even bother to check. I don't care about your investors or their fat wallets. If Saren gets away with this, we'll all be dead before we even know what hit us. Oh, and I would also like to know if you can sing a good quarian melody, because if I have to attend that little girl's funeral just because of some-"

"I apologize, Commander". Matsuo offered a simple, dignified response to halt Shepard's verbal assault. Seeing an opening, the security captain excused herself and led her security team out of the garage without another word.

The captain had a lot of paperwork ahead of her. There was something about the outrage that the spectre's brown eyes scorched her with. It would not be until the end of her strenuous day that her wandering, relatively relaxed mind made the connection.

Matsuo had been openly disrespectful toward her mother on only one occasion, as a child. Her mother did not speak to her for several hours following the outburst. She would not forget these hours. Whenever she dared to look at her mother's face, it bore a strange expression she had never seen before. It tore into the essence of her very being, and asked "Who _are_ you? Why would you do this to me? How, after _all_ I have done, can you unleash such cruelty and disrespect upon my very being? I am _your mother!_ To you I gave my _life_, and _for_ you I would sacrifice every living thing in the galaxy.

_Mother._

The captain of Hanshan's security team did not sleep well that night.

Shepard excelled in preparation.

Even prior to her enlistment in the Alliance military, she knew the value of a good plan and a well-maintained set of tools. One of her instructors in basic training suggested that she had a gift of some kind, an ability to "steal the eyes of the enemy". Some of her fellow recruits had been dumbfounded by the compliment, but Shepard understood the meaning. As a child, she was sometimes lauded for her "creativity" or "imagination". Fancy words for folks with lazy brains, she sometimes told herself. Hard work and dedication brought her to the rank of commander in the Alliance navy. People threw around words like "creativity" in order to justify the discriminatory treatment given to her. She hated that.

More irritating than being set upon a pedestal above others, she hated the moments when her so-called "gifts" failed her. Sometimes, plans shattered and shifted and dismembered themselves before you even knew it. You had to deal with that as best you could, or you'd just get knocked off your feet.

"Joker. Is Garrus back at the Normandy?"

Or even worse, and someone else fell down just because of your own carelessness.

"Just got back, ma'am. He's been pacing around in front of the medbay door ever since Chakwas kicked him out. Turian loyalty for ya".

"How is she?"

"She's fine. I mean, she was still mouthin' off at Garrus when he brought her aboard. Want me to patch her through?"

"No", Shepard answered immediately, before she could let images of the crippled quarian invade her mind. "I need someone to fill in for her, though".

"Yeah? Anyone in particular, or you want me to find a bottle to spin?"

Shepard had no need of spinning bottles or other inanimate oracles to determine her needs or aid her decisions. She had hoped to arrive on Noveria before the geth, and now the element of surprise was completely lost. This ice cube was rapidly approaching its melting point, and Shepard would need someone she could rely on in the heat of battle. She knew who would be best suited to the heavy fighting that was sure to come, and the decision had been made long before it had been articulated by the Normandy's smartass pilot.


	5. Chapter 5

Morning, if such a thing existed on Noveria, was quiet and uneventful aboard the SSV Normandy. Hushed voices and throbbing engines echoed the restless nothings that permeated Ashley's thick skull. She sat in the golden ambiance of the Normandy's mess hall, sloshing a mug of viscous brown fluid in her olive hands. Lean fingers grasped the vessel around its mouth, hot steam condensing as moisture at the palm.

Sadly, the sensuality of this experience was wasted on the listless gunnery chief. Her salty, condensed "stew" was not stimulating her appetite in the slightest. Her palette craved something cool, something that would refresh the mind and awaken the senses. She once consumed twelve packets of the ubiquitous, "military-grade" hot sauce to win a bet with a mouth-breathing sergeant during one of her dull garrison postings. Of course, she was the only person in her unit who considered the cheap hot sauce to be watery and bland. That wouldn't do the trick. Frozen custard sounded pretty good, although the best ice cream aboard the Normandy tasted like icy packing foam.

Hearing footsteps, Ashley relinquished her mug and rose to full height. Lieutenant Alenko peered at her with those squinty little eyes, and she made a swift chopping motion from her forehead as a campy, theatrical salute.

"That might be the first salute you've ever given me, Chief", Alenko observed, a thin smile playing upon his gentle features.

"Might be", Ashley shrugged, dusting herself for crumbs. She appeared immaculate, but cleanliness was very important to the gunnery chief.

"Shepard wants you" Alenko said as he sauntered to the beverage dispenser. Before even reaching for a cup, Ashley knew the lieutenant would be preparing a black coffee without even a drop of milk. It was humbling to realize what wretched fluids passed for "milk" aboard the most advanced vessel in the Alliance navy.

"Wait, right now?"

"Yep", the lieutenant replied with a heavy sigh. He pressed his forefingers against his temples. Ashley wasn't sure if coffee was the best way to relieve a chronic headache, but she didn't bother to ask him. She already made long strides to her locker, in the depths of the Normandy's lower deck.

Commander Shepard frequently called upon the Chief whenever the fighting was expected to be thick. Shepard had no trouble sending her out into roughest conditions, where even the thickest armor of a professionally trained Alliance soldier couldn't guarantee survival. Didn't hold back, like those bums she once took orders from, too timid to accept the possibility that a "pretty little gal" like Ashley might be injured or killed on their watch. They were cowards, and she despised cowardice.

"Liara, do you know how to install this?"

Doctor T'Soni lifted her head, and saw a thin bar of metal Shepard's gloved hand.

"What is it, some kind of weapon upgrade?"

"Hand me your gun", she requested firmly, and T'Soni complied. She watched as the commander's swift hands went to work on her pistol, and after several sharp clicks, she returned the weapon to Liara.

"Squash rounds. Should come in handy next time".

_Next time_. The words trickled along fibrous pathways in Liara's temporal lobes.

Although she often carried a pistol for the purpose of self-defense, T'Soni did not relish the thought of her gun packing even greater destructive force that it already possessed. Her biotic powers seemed much easier to control than any mechanized weapon, but perhaps that was merely the result of her asari physiology. In a violent clash against a synthetic foe, a more powerful sidearm would be appropriate. Once again, Shepard's judgment demonstrated exceptional wisdom, particularly for a member of a supposedly impulsive species.

"Thank you, Shepard", came her delayed expression of gratitude.

Shepard was already preoccupied, however. She carefully set a second magazine, glossy and black, within the recesses of her own pistol. Liara could not identify the ammunition type, though she had encountered "squash rounds" at least once before.

During one particularly fascinating excavation, Doctor T'Soni had been interrupted by a human who repeated the same string of questions several times before she decided to ignore him. He appeared to be in an altered state of consciousness, and Liara suspected that he was under the influence of a powerful narcotic. After leaving for several minutes, he interrupted again, this time backed by a group of poorly-dressed bandits, most of whom appeared to be equipped with firearms. Three times she politely asked them to leave her in peace. They drew closer, threatening her with harsh words and weapons, and she had been forced to defend herself with violent measures. Several of them sustained grievous wounds, but nothing terribly debilitating. Liara enjoyed the remainder of her workday without interruption.

"Joker. Status", Shepard cupped a hand to her earpiece.

"Chief has left the building, Commander. Should be there any minute".

"Glad to hear it. Shepard out".

Upon completion of her work, the asari discovered a single firearm dropped by one of the bandits. Curious, and having little else to busy herself with as she awaited the next transport shuttle, Doctor T'Soni studied the weapon. The ammunition type she recognized as the "squash rounds" the commander had recently gifted to her. Also known as "hammerhead", each sheared projectile was considerably softer than that of typical ammunition blocks. The principal behind this design was to allow each round to spread and flatten at the tip upon impact with a hard target, spreading kinetic force throughout the target rather than simply punching a hole right through it.

T'Soni holstered her weapon. She had never been seriously injured by a micro-mass accelerator round before, and she was grateful for it.

"Hey there, bullet sponge!" came a sudden shout from behind, and Liara flinched when the relentless hammer of Ashley's fist impacted with her unarmored shoulder.

"Ready to move out, Commander?" the Chief approached Shepard, leaving Liara alone to rub the soreness from her bruised deltoid. They busied themselves with some of the ammunition Shepard harvested from the recent battle, and Liara was glad for it.

Sleep did not come easily to Urdnot Wrex. He knew he needed it, probably even more than most of the Normandy's crew. They slept regularly, cramping themselves inside tiny "sleeping pods" like insects in a hive. Not so for the krogan.

A stubby little volus once offered him generous payment to work a brief stint as a security guard. It had been a boring job, and like many security personnel, Wrex would doze off during his shifts from time to time. After one particularly lengthy snooze, he awoke to find the volus shouting and spouting all manner of obscenities at him. As it turned out, Wrex had been asleep while the volus's beloved family wished to make an unscheduled visit to his estate. They pleaded for entry, and gave up after several hours of staring into the crimson eyes of a sleeping krogan battlemaster. This was when Wrex discovered that the krogan tendency to sleep while standing was held as extremely unusual and discomforting to many other species. Equally unsettling was their ability to enter a deep slumber without shutting the lids of their eyes. Centuries of surviving in hostile environments had allowed the krogans to develop many extraordinary gifts, making them more resilient and adaptive than most professionally-trained soldiers.

The volus didn't stay angry for long. Wrex figured the perception of a standing, wakeful krogan security guard was enough to discourage interlopers, and the volus apparently felt the same way. The contract earned Wrex a good chunk of change, especially considering the fact that he slept nearly half the time.

It hadn't really been an ideal posting for him, though. All things being equal, Wrex enjoyed the battle far more than the credits. Financial resources comfortably covered his basic needs and a few decent weapons. The rest of it, he saved.

The krogan were not prudent investors, but they were not spendthrifts, either. Why he felt compelled to save most of his earnings was a mystery, even to him. He supposed he only saved the money because it felt like the right thing to do.

"Hey, Wrex", a tiny voice warbled at his right. Wrex blinked himself back into wakefulness, and turned to the speaker.

"Tali", he nodded, taking note of her staggered, asymmetrical gait. "You didn't fall down a flight of stairs or anything, did you?"

"What?" she halted in mid-stride. "No, I didn't _fall_. I slid".

"Slid?" Wrex repeated the word, groggy mind struggling to envision a tiny quarian injuring herself from a slide. "On the ice?"

"Ice? There wasn't any ice involved, no. I didn't even get that far", she added, gazing into the blackness of the Normandy's vehicle bay.

"You going to tell me what happened, or am I going to stand here like an idiot all day?" he tried to be as explicit in his request as possible. Easy for a krogan trying to extract information from a detail-obsessed quarian.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked him.

"Why? What the hell kind of question is that?" Wrex grumbled, now irritated that his rest had been disturbed by a quarian without a story to tell.

"Fine. Since you asked", the quarian complied at last. "We were in the parking garage, and I tried to warn Shepard that the geth would be waiting for us inside. I don't think she took me very seriously, because once the shooting started, she and Liara had to dive behind a crate just to keep themselves alive".

"Hm", Wrex snorted, unable to understand Shepard's choice of tactics. "She should have sent me in there first. Would have rolled out the carpet for her".

"Carpet? I don't think there would have been much carpet, Wrex. We were outnumbered two to one. Those aren't easy odds, even for you".

Although she was plainly mistaken, Wrex held his tongue and allowed her to continue.

"There were several geth already closing in on us, and they kept firing on Shepard and Liara, so I used the omni-tool you gave me, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. Skip to the part where you got slapped around".

"I did not get_slapped around_, Wrex", the quarian corrected him, stepping forward as though trying to daunt him with her frail, fractured physique. Maybe this one had some stones, after all.

"Just keep going", he insisted, stifling the urge to swat her away with one yellow paw.

"As I said, I tried to launch a few mines at them. But they were drones, huge and powerful. I disabled their weapons, then their shields, but they just kept coming. When the first one finally dropped, the second one broke into a full run. I knew I would only have a few seconds before it would reach them, and they would be dead. So I ran".

"You ran?"

"I ran toward it, yes. Not exactly toward it, though. I darted out of cover, trying to pick up speed while keeping pace so that my trajectory would be just behind the geth. I nearly flew right into it, but instead, I dropped to the ground and slid a good two meters across the garage floor. Some parts of my suit have better traction than others, I guess".

"What good did that do?"

"Well, I fired my shotgun at its legs when I passed behind it. I had to wait for the precise moment, when I would be close enough to inflict maximum damage, without throwing myself right into its leg in the process".

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did it work, quarian? Looks to me like you tore a ligament or something".

"Oh, it worked. I slid right into some box or crate, I don't remember. I think I heard Shepard's voice, and some gunfire. The next thing I knew, my leg felt like it was on fire, and Garrus carried me all the way back to the ship".

"So you messed up your leg and the geth's leg? What kind of deal is that?"

"I never thought of it that way", she lowered her voice, as though some grand insight had just been gained. Were all quarians this weird?

"Still. You got the job done. Came back in one piece, sort of".

"That's true. I'm supposed to stay off my feet as much as possible for a while, at least that's what Doctor Chakwas told me".

"Forget her. You don't seem like the type to let other people tell you what to do. Maybe you've got a little krogan blood in you, quarian".

"What? That's not true, I listen to other people all the time. I'm not like-" she stopped herself for fear of bruising what many presumed to be the fragile ego of a krogan. "The quarians aren't like the krogans".

"No? You jumped right in there, smashed your enemies to bits. Threw everything you had at it".

"I didn't do it for fun, Wrex. I did it for my friends", she defended herself with tiny words, which failed to impress the cynical mercenary.

Tali'Zorah nar Rayya shook her head at the baffled krogan, gave one final farewell, and hobbled away to the Normandy's engine room. Wrex waited until she was out of sight, and he was alone once more in the darkness.

The krogan smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

"User alert. Main reactor shut down in accordance with emergency containment procedures. Manual restart required".

"God, doesn't that thing ever shut up?" Chief Williams voiced her complaints openly, as she always did.

"It will. Give me a second", Shepard reassured her, tapping a series of keys on a tattered terminal. The facility's fusion plant relied on helium-3, which Joker had mentioned as being one of Noveria's major imports. Shepard couldn't remember the reason for this; helium-3 was a popular and plentiful gas, a frequently harvested source of energy. She wasn't sure about its renewable qualities, and didn't much care. All she knew was that she had to restore power to the central reactor before the matriarch found some way to escape the labs. They were closing in on their objective, but the journey had been riddled with all manner of obstacles. She imagined the facility would have its own security forces, but it was unlikely they gave Lady Benezia and her commando team a hard time about getting around the facility.

_Damn Tali._

This whole mess was Benezia's fault, and if stopping Saren meant killing an asari matriarch, Shepard would not hesitate.

Something echoed sharply, and the reactor hummed to life.

"That should do it. Better now, Ash?"

"Much better. But if I have to see or hear that V.I. again, you might have to confiscate my weapons, Commander".

"I hear you, Chief. Move out".

The chief and the commander quickened pace, veering around the broken bodies of synthetic life forms that littered the catwalk. When they returned to Liara, they found her hunkered down beside the bloated corpse of what appeared to be a vicious insect. This insect, however, looked big enough to eat a German Shepard for lunch.

Ashley frowned.

"Been busy?" asked the most dangerous Shepard the Chief had ever known.

"A little, Commander", the asari replied. "I appreciate the upgrade you installed in my pistol, though. I did not think such a small weapon would be capable of-"

"Watch it!" Williams shouted, drawing her assault rifle with lighting speed. A series of loud pops were concluded when a shrill screeching filled the air. The bug sat in a heap, less than three meters from the asari, who sent one extra round into the hideous beast for good measure.

"Wow", Ash was the first to speak, though she kept her rifle trained on the motionless hostile. "Nice reflexes for a-"

"Sound off, Chief", the commander ordered, sweeping the room for additional threats. The insect had apparently smashed its way through the metal grate, and Williams guessed that it would only be a matter of time before they starting pouring through in greater numbers. She didn't know what kinds of experiments were going on at Peak 15. Part of her hoped that this "biological contagion" had been Benezia's idea; it would make filling her with polonium rounds all the more satisfying. Still, she would need more information before she could make sense of everything that was going on here.

"Clear. Let's get to the trams".

This was Shepard's game, and if the commander decided that the matriarch could be more useful if they took her alive, she wouldn't question those orders. Shaking images of biotic warriors from her mind, the Chief jogged behind her allies. Concave walls of greenish tile blurred past them, illuminated by curved stretches of glass that filtered sunlight through colorless layers of permafrost.

Alestia hated the krogan.

Like most species, she was glad that their numbers were dwindling under the salarian's brilliant genophage. Binary Helix had supposedly been working on a "cure" to appease krogan investors, but the results been disclosed as "not viable". That was a cover story, of course, for the valuable projects that Lady Benezia had to keep under wraps. She did not know why the matriarch would be interested in a remedy for the krogan genophage, yet it rarely bothered her. As an asari matron, she was never one to question the wisdom of the matriarchs. They did not take action without careful thought, and a young asari maiden was little more than a reckless child to the unfathomable depths of a matriarch's thorough strategies.

"Excuse me", a harsh voice spoke.

"What?" Alestia opened her eyes, allowing them to focus on the newcomer who rudely disrupted her contemplative state of serene relaxation. She appeared to be a human, and Alestia was unsurprised.

"You seem awfully calm, considering everything that's happened here".

"That", the asari explained to the human, "is one of the virtues of the mediation you interrupted".

"Sorry", came the curt apology. "I was just wondering if you knew Lady Benezia".

"Do you know President Huerto of Earth?" Alestia retorted, reflecting the absurdity of the human's question. Her face appeared puzzled, as though sluggishly working out the intricacies of her blatant sarcasm. "I did not think so", Alestia said at last.

"You haven't seen a matriarch pass through here recently?"

"I saw her. You asked if I _knew_ her. I do not."

The human continued to annoy Alestia, asking generic questions regarding the nature of her occupation as a geneticist. She answered truthfully without revealing her affiliation to the matriarch.

Apparently satisfied, the armor-clad human departed and began to chat with a pair of women that Alestia did not recognize. She heard the room grow silent when they entered, but had assumed they were nothing more than a stray security team.

She could not hear their words from across the room, but Alestia would not stoop to eavesdropping to learn more about the newcomers. No one noticed the asari's calm eyes tracking the trio, watching them negotiate with the elcor merchant, converse with a salarian scientist, and head downstairs to the medical bay. Her contact in Hanshan mentioned something about a group of suspicious individuals. The hanar's description matched the human and asari she saw now, although no quarian was in sight.

No krogan, either. _Thank the goddess._

Alestia resumed her meditation, this time without bothering to lower her eyelids.

Perhaps it was their violent nature, or their toad-like faces. Perhaps it was an extended grudge, after her mother had been thoughtlessly murdered by a krogan bounty hunter several centuries ago. To the krogan, it might have been "just another job". To the orphaned Alestia, it had been an outrage. After years of hard study and relentless searching, she located her mother's assassin in a dingy bar. She had taken careful aim at the bulky krogan's brainstem, where vital bodily functions were disrupted with a single, precise blast from her Stiletto IV. She expected to feel relief at the sight of his lifeless body, but instead, felt incredible excitement. Spurred on by the rush of power, she fired several more rounds into the krogan's face. She told herself that she was only "making sure" her revenge had been exacted. No one in the bar spoke a word when she holstered the weapon and exited the building, and the few who dared to look her in eye could not maintain their gaze when she met it with her own.

Such a simple act, yet_so much power!_

Alestia spent the next decade working as a customer service representative for a small bank. When her salarian employer finally got the gall to accuse her of "embezzlement", she spent a luxurious evening carving him apart with the largest knife she could find in the break room. She did this after everyone's shift had ended, mainly because she wanted to avoid muffling his shrill screams with some barbaric gagging device. Such adventures only served to pique her curiosity, and she heard many more screams before her recent appointment to Benezia's team of researchers.

Alestia was one of Matriarch Benezia's most valuable assets. Even among the many members of the matriarch's entourage, she was extremely intelligent and passionately devoted to her mistress. Over the centuries, her methods had been honed to achieve unparalleled levels of efficiency. One of the matriarch's dull commandos referred to Alestia as "something of a sadist". Even as she recalled the words, it brought a smile to Alestia's shapely face. Only rarely had she been shamed by her indulgence in morbid curiosity. The few who even recognized her eccentric desires did not show any lasting interest.

Perhaps, before their work on Noveria was complete, she would educate the impolite human on the true nature of sadism. She had no interest in her asari companion; there was something about the scream of an asari that felt more aggravating than pleasurable. Humans were another story, though. They had only made themselves known to the galaxy in recent decades. Many found them to be mysterious and arrogant.

Alestia had never heard a human scream before.


	7. Chapter 7

"I killed her" Han Olar offered his confession quite plainly.

"What?" the asari asked.

Olar struggled to find words to describe the things that haunted him. He was always articulate, even for a volus, yet the sound of screaming played on an endlessly looping track in his mind. He struggled to busy himself with minor tasks, desperate to dampen the nauseating cries of the woman he killed. It hadn't worked. His hands shook, and his mind wandered back to the moment of his selfish decision to sacrifice a life to save his own.

"You did what you had to", the armor-clad human raised her slender shoulders in a casual shrug, as though Olar's traumatic experience was built upon a trivial error in judgment.

Still, he agreed with her. If he kept the door open for one moment longer and allowed his associate to enter, the rachni would have followed. They were deceptively fast for their size, and easily capable of rending flesh from bone in a matter of seconds. Less, actually. He tightened his fists at the relentless memory of her panicked screams, this time returning with images of shredded muscle tissue, crimson with pink chunks of brain matter. The sounds were far worse, though. She howled a melody of anguish and betrayal. _You were my friend, Olar. We were on our lunch break!_

There was no denying it. Olar had killed her.

Commander Shepard knew that she was pressed for time. The oceanic orbs of Liara's eyes became flooded with apprehension. Even Ashley, carrying the weight of four separate firearms on the backside of her armored suit, appeared to falter at the sight of broken spirits throughout Rift Station.

Shepard was not going to walk away from this, however. She knew it was important for a soldier to understand what they were fighting for; it drove them to focus their fear, and put their petty concerns into perspective. She allowed the Volus to finish his story, although two survivors at the opposite side of the room became vocal about their desires to keep him harnessed in silence. Fortunately, this volus was strong-willed. He would not be silenced, and he dismissed their angry accusations of insanity.

This was good. It was important for the survivors to share their tales. Shepard might not have been a professionally-trained psychologist, but she was well aware of the risks of keeping one's innermost fears buried in darkness. Open disclosure allowed people to cope more readily; it boosted morale as well as productivity.

But more than that, it _felt right._

Comforted by the reassurance of a heavily-armed stranger, Olar answered all her questions regarding the rachni infestation. He told her about the queen, how they found her egg on an ancient derelict craft. He told her about the genetic research, and how the company had been so eager to clone and utilize the rachni, they had neglected to carry out the replicant studies and extensive peer reviews necessary to ensure their appropriate growth and containment.

This place was an abomination of science. He wanted to leave.

Olar realized, at this moment, that he was not the only one at fault for this catastrophe. Binary Helix had investors that funded this project. They were the ones cracking the whips on research teams, eager for quick results, regardless of how conclusive or valid the data might have been.

The human had been right. How could he have burdened himself with all that had gone wrong in such a complicated situation? He believed in taking responsibility for his actions, but he wasn't above pointing fingers at those who were too selfish to see the destruction they wrought. Han Olar had wasted time writing so many polite letters that received no reply. He would take aggressive action, and he already knew two asari attorneys that owed him a favor.

_It wasn't his fault._

Olar's fist relaxed, and the sound of screaming stopped.

Alestia clutched her throbbing knee, biting back the sharp pains that wracked her body. She could handle minor wounds in battle, but this was the first time she experienced firsthand the blunt hammering of squash rounds. It was more pain than she had anticipated, but she would recover. She had to. The matriarch was counting on her.

_Mother._

With great effort, she forced herself back onto her feet and drew her pistol.

"Holy crap, that was awesome!"

One of the humans, though she couldn't tell which, mired herself in shallow observations regarding the use of biotic attacks. Most asari were skilled with biotics; consequently, their resistance to such attacks was relatively high compared to that of other species. Synthetic life forms were not so lucky; their cold hard frames could be tossed around like cheap office supplies by a skilled biotic.

"Keep her off me!" came another shout, this one sounding coarser than its predecessor. Alestia knew she was being outflanked. This assault had been doomed from the beginning. Once she reported the Spectre's presence to Lady Benezia, her immediate objective was to neutralize the threat as discretely as possible. Alestia was good with discretion, and her mind worked quickly to solve any problem she faced. Upon receiving her orders, she made her way to the intruders' location with geth reinforcements. The few moments required to close in on her prey offered more than enough time to plan her method of attack. Time was one of the greatest assets of any asari.

Alestia curled her wrist, extending only her pistol beyond the safety of the supply crate. She squeezed the trigger rhythmically, maintaining a steady rate of fire without allowing her sidearm to overheat.

"Taking fire, Shepard!"

The rounds striking her bulky cover impacted with a slower tempo. This was a good sign; Alestia's blindfiring was not likely to eliminate her primary target, but it would slow their advance. Time was on _her_ side, not theirs.

"Keep up the fire, Chief", Alestia heard a third voice, icy and smooth like walls of the entire complex. Sure enough, her foe's rate of fire increased, but it would not matter. Her kinetic barriers were fully charged.

It was unfortunate that the battle became so messy. This Spectre, as well as her companions, were exceedingly skilled combatants, and they cut down her synthetic support team in mere seconds. Alestia suspected that this would be her final stand, and like many asari, she did not feel anxious about meeting her end. Her life had been colored by many wondrous sights and sounds. To die here, as a loyal servant for the Matriarch, might very well be her finest hour. The thought of a noble and violent death made her feel even more alive.

"Can't hit her from this angle!"

Personal pleasures and selfish desires no longer existed. Alestia saw only the face of Benezia, proud and powerful, a goddess among insects.

"Three seconds, Ash!"

Alestia enveloped herself in a tingling blanket of biotic protection. It would only last several seconds, she wanted to live just long enough to see the eyes of her enemy. She wished the Spectre to see the true beauty of servitude and familial love. Perhaps the Alliance-trained assassin would remember Alestia's face before meeting her own death, and come to recognize her actions as driven by love, rather than fear. She delighted in the knowledge that she was alone against them, and that her enemies might be foolish enough to expect her to surrender to them. They did not understand what it was to serve a matriarch, to have already surrendered to a greater power that is beautiful and wise beyond comprehension.

"Cease fire" the silky voice sounded close enough to be right beside her. She turned toward it, but only soon enough to bear witness to the angular trenches that laced the soles of Shepard's heavy boot. There was a crack, and Alestia blinked several times before she realized she was looking at the vacant expanse of the ceiling.

"Where's Benezia?"

Turian skin was not as thick as it looked. Alestia had been disappointed when she noticed the way her thin little knife slid into the guard's neck without even a hint of resistance. That slow-minded turian appeared more startled than anguished, but Alestia had been hurried, so she settled for the sound of his choked gargle as he collapsed, armor and all, to the cold floor.

"We're not asking you again, tell us where she is!" another voice called to her. It sounded very far away, almost muffled. How could such a distant observer notice the blade she drew from the rim of her boot? Her limbs felt heavy, but she swung valiantly with her tiny weapon before a Firestorm IV was discharged less than two meters from her tranquil eyes.

She had not screamed. Alestia had embraced eternity.


	8. Chapter 8

Shepard stood like a wall against the onslaught of words. Tensions were running high among her party. She knew they were at the breaking point.

"There isn't any _other way_, Liara", Williams folded her arms defiantly.

"We won't know unless we look", T'Soni pointed out. "Commander, I know we're short on time, but we could avoid needless casualties if-"

"Forget it!" Williams interjected, "If they won't let us through, we'll shoot our way through. They're probably just goons, anyway. We're better off taking the fastest route. Keep Benezia holed up before she has the chance to run off and give us more headaches later. Not to mention more funerals to attend".

"Benezia will not _run off_", came Liara's fluid defense. It reminded Shepard of a shallow wave crashing upon a distant shore. "I do not know why she has allied herself with Saren, but I have never known a matriarch to flee at the first sign of danger".

"Well, that's reassuring", Ashley rolled her eyes. "Any other helpful tidbits you can share with us?"

"That'll do, Williams. You've made your point", Shepard sighed her agreement, knowing that her duty as commanding officer prevented her from letting the opinions of others overshadow the objective. "You're right, anyway".

Brightening brown eyes were followed by the firm response Shepard had come to expect from the gunnery chief.

"Understood, ma'am".

She was ready for action. Shepard turned to Liara, whose azure gaze was cast to the floor.

"You with us, Liara?"

"I'm alright, Commander", she lifted her eyes to meet Shepard's. The Spectre was not greatly concerned with the asari's combat capabilities or willingness to fight the matriarch. This issue had been discussed much earlier, and she sensed something else irked the young scientist.

"What is it?"

"I was thinking about Doctor Cohen, from the medical bay-" she paused once, noticing an uncomfortable squirm from Williams.

"What about him?"

"I believe the higher ranking personnel within this facility would have access to otherwise restricted areas. Perhaps, when we speak with him, we could-"

"Hey, she's right!" the chief chimed in. "He's all by himself down there. I'm sure he'll be willing to relinquish his access card to the _first human Spectre_. With respect, Commander".

"That might work", Shepard spoke, running a gloved finger through the irritating part in her black hair. _Stupid Noverian weather._

"Yes", Liara nodded with renewed enthusiasm. "Although I was thinking a gentler approach might be more suitable. After all, we performed a special favor for those patients under his care".

"Yeah, no kidding", Ashley added, "Not to mention having to put that blue bitch down. No offense".

Liara quirked a brow at the gunnery chief, and Commander Shepard utilized the distraction to scratch freely at her scalp. There. _Much_ better.

"The volus said she came out of there, Shepard", Williams pointed to a corridor with a red light of death on its control panel. Locked.

"Let's see if we can't borrow the doctor's hall pass", Shepard shook off her fatigue, and led her team down to the station's medical ward.

Matriarch Benezia knew that Alestia was dead. The knowledge did not grant her any particular joy or sorrow. Like all who served the matriarch, she gave her life willingly to defend a nobler cause. Even Benezia herself was utterly devoted to the beautifully constructed plans and intricate strategies Saren had placed at her feet.

Not at her feet, perhaps. Benezia was impressed, nevertheless. Saren knew how to create, and how to destroy. More importantly, he understood the correct timing for such actions. This was one of his greatest gifts, an incredible cognitive maneuverability which more than qualified him for the role of an elite council spectre. Benezia suspected that qualifications and standards had been much higher during the time of Saren's admittance to the spectres.

_Spectre._

It was a strange word. Its original formation might have been rooted in some absurd political acronym. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, if memory served her correctly. It usually did. Benezia was several centuries old, but her mind was nothing short of magnificent. Intelligence guided patience, patience granted her wisdom, and wisdom brought her all manner of unspeakable talents and abilities that even Saren himself could not fully comprehend.

Something tickled at the back of the matriarch's rich mind. She suppressed the annoyance with little effort, never one to allow selfish impulses to grow beyond her own control.

Self-control was expected of any asari, even the youngest ones. Other species thought strangely of asari culture. Rumors ranged from promiscuity to telepathy, but the asari did not allow such shallow ignorance to upset them. They knew who they were, just as Benezia knew who she was.

_Mother._

Benezia flinched. Alestia had mentioned something about one of the Spectre's companions. She claimed one had been an asari, very young and strangely withdrawn. Such attributes were uncommon among the asari. They were known for their "sociability" and "diplomacy", as some species called it. Simple words that failed to adequately describe a cunningly crafted culture, elevated to tremendous heights through the cultivation of matriarchs over countless centuries.

_Spectre_.

The matriarch was not superstitious. There were others, however, who insisted upon the existence of otherworldly spirits, claiming to have encountered ethereal beings from alternate dimensions. Most of these claims could be dismissed as wild imaginings or simple lies designed to attract some small measure of attention to a sad and lonely sentient.

She did not believe in ghosts, not in the usual sense of the word. Death was the side effect of life that many learned to fear, and coping with such fear could be done in any number of ways. Benezia herself did not fear death. She was a matriarch, an asari in the final stages of her life cycle. Death would take her just as it takes all organic life, in due time.

"Matriarch, the hot labs are no longer safe", spoke the slim commando in her dusty battle fatigues. "For your own safety, you _must_ come with us".

"Must I?" the matriarch mused, eyes trained on the containment pod at the heart of the room. Within stood the rachni queen, a mighty mother that even an asari matriarch would be wary of. The queen and the matriarch appeared equally angered, although Benezia suspected the rachni's wrath far exceeded her own. It was difficult even for Benezia to read the emotions of an overgrown insect, but the violet queen was clearly unsettled.

"The Spectre _is_ dangerous", the asari boldly reminded her matriarch, but softened her words by adding "We will remain here at your order, Matriarch".

"Leave me", Benezia spoke, silhouette stolid against the pale blue of the laboratory.

The commando hesitated only briefly, and Benezia heard footsteps as she finally departed. Her intentions were commendable, the matriarch noted to herself. Unfortunately, personal love for one's leader was irrelevant at this time.

_Love._

Ever since allying herself with Saren, there had been a nagging sensation that something was missing from the matriarch's entourage. Impulses and strange thoughts flickered below her notice; she was a matriarch, a focal point among all who stood in her presence. She had several advisors, exceptionally wise for their age. There were simpler servants, such as the synthetic life forms now liberated from their master's whip, although they were no match for her personal escort of highly-trained commandos.

Benezia's entourage was complete. She reviewed the roster in her head, and not one member raised a red flag. She had taken all the proper precautions, and even if the spectre found her way inside the facility, her actions were insignificant.

Saren's plans would not be hindered. The Reapers would return. No one, not even Saren, would be capable of delaying their advance.


	9. Chapter 9

Gunnery Chief Williams considered herself to be a skeptic, at heart.

She had assumed her family history had something to do with it. It might even be the relentless cynicism that ran in her blood. To be a Williams was to know the fire, and bask in its heat. It also meant watching for stray flames, tiny embers that could easily set everything ablaze. Maybe Shepard had been right. It was possible that, despite all her rationalizations, she just didn't _trust_ other species.

It didn't matter right now, though.

The only thing that mattered now was the angry clatter of a Tsunami V, jumping fiercely in her gloved hands. Skepticism guided those hands long before the treacherous matriarch began her "surprise" assault. There was just something about a busty blue bitch in a black pinstripe suit that didn't sit well with Ashley Williams. Rigorous Alliance training exercises allowed her to lay down suppressing fire on the matriarch without shattering her nerves, though many would argue that nothing short of an industrial mining laser would be required to put a dent in the Chief's resolve. The embrace of Sirta's finest Phoenix armor, reddish padding between white ceramic plates, functioned not unlike the grotesque exoskeleton it resembled. It allowed her to survive the matriarch's offensive blast, a kinetic force far surpassing that of Doctor T'Soni's most impressive techniques. Knife-like pains tore through Ashley's shoulder when she attempted to stand, so she held fast to the catwalk and took aim with her rifle from a prone position.

_Stupid biotic powers._

Liara, having hastily delivered over 1000 Newtons of biotic love to her estranged mother, reached for her sidearm without pause. The asari's biotic abilities, enough to worry even a fellow biotic, would be harmlessly deflected by this matriarch. She did not bother to make further efforts. T'Soni took drew her pistol, loaded with Shepard's gift of hammerhead rounds.

She was jarringly quick to point her pistol at the blue swelling of her mother's bosom, where once she fed. She did not look Benezia in the eye, but nearly dropped the gun once she heard the anguished cry of her mother.

The great matriarch collapsed.

"Liara, get _down!_"

She dropped instantly. There was the familiar staccato of Ashley's controlled bursts, followed by the smack of lean muscle against cold metal. Liara brought her weapon to bear, only to find the mangled corpse of an asari commando at the bottom of a flight of steps. She never thought a sight so morbid would bring her such relief. It was then that she noticed the strange pressure on her left ankle.

"Thank you, Mister Polonium", the Chief crooned like a bashful schoolgirl, bracing herself against Liara's boot for support.

"Shepard!" Liara shouted and gestured toward the slick sound of asari militia at full gallop. Their boots were padded for stealth, barely audible even to the attentive archaeologist. Benezia was a famed matriarch, and it was a bittersweet realization that she had never been among her mother's many followers. Benezia was certain to know that her daughter would not have made a good commando.

_Not good enough._

"Hold position", the spectre quietly ordered her team while making her way down the stairs. Liara frowned when she noticed the dark stream trickling from Shepard's nose, but did as she was told. She kept her weapon trained on the fallen matriarch, while Ashley, having fought her way into a combative crouch, scanned the opposite walkway for new targets.

She didn't have to wait long.

Several rounds pinged off Shepard's shields when she ducked briefly out of cover to launch a high-explosive grenade at the narrow walkway, knowing hostile forces would need to cross it before advancing on her position. The spectre was outnumbered, but she appeared unconcerned. The grenade's extended blast radius would grant her a wider margin of error, and years of combat experience had refined Shepard's sense of timing. Shields battery life still read as half full, she noted, priming the remote detonator and steeling herself for the ear-shattering blast.

Footsteps. She clicked the activation key, and felt the metallic box that was her cover tap approvingly against her shoulder.

_Extended blast radius?_ Someone at Hahne-Kedar was obviously playing coy with product descriptions.

A second set of footsteps, and Commander Shepard rose to full height.

The most courageous member of Benezia's commando team made a daring charge at the spectre. Having accepted a painful death as her reward for allowing the matriarch to be murdered, her thoughts ran icy and clear. To die by the hand of the council's elite, in service of the matriarch, would bestow honor upon her blood. She would surrender her life for the greater good. Preservation through sacrifice. From death, life. From fear, love.

_For my mother._

The spectre exposed herself at last, a generous spray of gunfire quenching the commando's shields in two seconds flat. A single mass effect field was unleashed, but the asari had barely the chance to watch it impact clumsily with a nearby crate before she dropped involuntarily to the ground. She winced from the exertion of rising upon shattered knees. The commando's strenuous life was punctuated by a single percussive punch before her aching muscles relaxed, and the drowsiness became insurmountable. Even as she surrendered to the inevitable, her pulse throbbed in futility.

_Sleep._

The asari exhaled, fighting only to calm her mind before entering time everlasting.


	10. Chapter 10

"Logged. The commanding officer is aboard", the Normandy's crisp V.I. began its familiar chant. "XO Pressley stands relieved".

"Welcome back, Commander" Jeff Mareau offered, scratching absentmindedly at his whiskers. He hated the automated voice because it tended to fill his head with images of the Normandy's executive officer standing over a urinal and sighing with relief. Joker normally straightened his cap whenever Shepard returned to the ship; today, he felt this ritual was unnecessary. A quick study of the returning shore party confirmed his beliefs.

Shepard responded with a curt nod, stray wisps of disheveled black hair bobbing as she headed down the Normandy's bridge. Doctor T'Soni appeared to be less alert than usual, fatigue casting grey shadows around the violet of her eye sockets. Even Ash looked grim, and not in an angry sort of way. Her gait seemed staggered, like she was wearing a much heavier version of her usual Phoenix armor.

"Alright then", he mumbled to himself.

The daring evac from the volcanic treachery of Therum had left Shepard's party noticeably shaken. The commander seemed to put up with his tasteless humor well enough during debriefing; his performance had been nothing short of outstanding. Even Feros, which sent Alenko home with a prominent scowl on his tired face, had been an excellent opportunity for classic jabs involving vague references to the daughters of colonists. He didn't care that people considered him to be an ass, but the Normandy's nimble pilot knew the correct timing for blatant sarcasm and subtle quips.

Now was not the time for either.

Noveria had drained the color out of everyone aboard the Normandy, even though most of the crew never ventured ashore. Joker knew it couldn't have been the weather. There was just something about the damn place, maybe something intangible. He decided the corporate environment was to blame for everyone's sour disposition.

The Normandy warmed to life in Joker's hands while he rehearsed potential wisecracks.

Staff Lieutenant Alenko checked his timepiece. It was time for him to go to sleep, but he felt too alert at the moment and shuffled off to the mess hall for a snack. Food frequently soothed him, although he was careful to monitor his intake. Any L2 was prone to development of health problems, but the lieutenant wasn't about to let himself get grey before his time.

Although, in some ways, he already had.

"Hey, Chief", he lowered himself to the dining table and cracked open a canister of unidentifiable origin.

"You like that stuff?" the chief sneered at the lieutenant's snack preference.

"Not really", he shrugged, cautiously crunching one of the wheat and soy wafers. It was crisp and salty, but the overall texture left something to be desired.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Alenko asked.

"You're not going to ask me about Noveria?" Ashley downed the last of her beverage.

"No".

"Why not?" she scoffed, her cup clinking against the table.

"Why should I?" Alenko asked plainly, popping another wafer into his mouth.

Williams rolled her eyes before offering her confession.

"It sucked. Sir".

"I gathered that".

"We had to fight our way through these monsters just to find one asari", she explained, then added "What a bitch".

Alenko glanced at the ingredient list on the canister, but Williams was undeterred.

"Then we find out she's just Saren's puppet, and she could turn on us again at any moment. Which, of course, she did. Commander was quick on the draw, luckily".

"Always has been", Alenko observed with a note of nostalgia.

"Then we got to watch the matriarch die right in front of us, and in plain view of her only daughter. Didn't see her cry or anything, though".

"You sound disappointed", he remarked.

"I was surprised", she corrected him. "I didn't even know what to say, so we just stood there, watching. I hate watching, but at least she didn't scream. Guess she wanted to die as a mother, instead of a slave. Could be an asari thing".

"Hm", was all the lieutenant offered, a third wafer now softening in his mouth.

"That's it? This doesn't ring any bells, Lieutenant?"

"Actually", he spoke after swallowing, "I think it reminds me of my own mother".

"Yeah?"

"Yep. If she saw me on Noveria right now, I think she would tell me to put on a sweater".

Ashley frowned.

"Sorry. Go ahead".

"Anyway, that was the worst of it. Unless you consider the rachni queen. Ugliest mother I've ever set eyes on. Wasn't my place to decide on how to handle things, but-"

"I know".

"What? You know about the rachni queen?"

"Yeah, Shepard told me about the whole thing. Rough stuff. But I'm always happy to hear someone else's version, Ash".

The gunnery chief pressed her palms against the table and lifted herself to full height. From where Kaidan sat, Williams was a strikingly imposing figure in the mess hall's amber light.

"You're an ass, Lieutenant. With all due _respect_", was her final declaration, before leaving him alone with his nutritious snack. Kaidan grinned and munched in solitude.

His wafer snack started to taste much better.

_Stupid Kaidan. _Ashley ruminated on her frustration.

She settled into the warmth of a sleep pod, and her pulse steadied almost instantaneously. Williams didn't fight the sensation of her lean frame sinking into a heavy slumber. Kaidan wasn't really stupid, he was probably just worn out. Like everyone else.

In her dreams, she saw her grandmother. She was young and beautiful, with her antique rifle trained on an unseen foe.

The quietest member of the Normandy's crew silently set his enormous bulk against the tiled wall of the vehicle bay. Ample rods and enlarged occipital lobes allowed the krogan to stalk nocturnal prey for countless generations. It was just one of many biological adaptations the turians had become painfully aware of during their bloody war against the indomitable warlords. This particular krogan focused the power of his magma eyes on a striking pair of silhouettes engaged in dramatic dialogue. The larger figure stood erect with an avian build, heavy at the top and slender near the bottom. For a krogan, the outline of a turian was instantly recognizable.

The second silhouette was smaller, and far more ambiguous. At first glance, it appeared unimpressive and frail like an asari or human. Despite its narrow waist and strange legs, the figure was not nearly as top heavy as a turian; Wrex reasoned that such a build would allow the sentient better balance and agility. He was still eager to bear witness to the quarian's combat skills. For the time being, he battled his boredom by listening in on their exchange for any hint of interesting information or recounting of violent incident.

So far, no luck.

"I suppose, in some ways, I felt I could relate to her".

"Relate to who?" the larger one spoke with typical turian rasp. "The matriarch?"

"No, I mean Liara", the quarian clarified. Wrex snorted, sensing another dull discussion of introspective nature.

"T'Soni? You mean because she's an outcast?"

"She is _not_ an outcast, Garrus. And I was talking about her mother".

"I thought you were talking about T'Soni".

"I am. Talking about both, I mean".

The turian sighed, but the quarian kept going.

"I was not very close to my mother, but it wasn't until I lost her that I really appreciated everything she did for me. That was what made it so upsetting for me, and why I am worried about Liara now".

"She'll be fine", the turian reassured her, but Wrex knew that Tali would not be so easily placated. He wasn't sure how he felt about either of them, but he did admire the quarian's persistence. She was agitating the turian. Wrex liked that.

"I know she will, and I think she does, too", said the quarian. "But I think I'll speak to her about it, all the same. It wouldn't hurt her to have an extra shoulder to lean on".

"Hm", the turian shook his spiky head. "Now you sound like my father".

"Really?" the quarian piped up. "Were you close to him?"

"Maybe I'll tell you about him later. Right now, I need to clear excess snow out of the Mako. All that salty Noverian water is highly corrosive, you know". Wrex detected a strange inflection when the turian said "corrosive". If there had been a hidden meaning, it went right over the krogan's head.

"Oh, right. I should get going, anyway. See you later, Garrus".

"Take care", he murmured, orange gauntlet glowing at his forearm. Wrex didn't care for omni-tools, so he watched the quarian as she made quick and happy strides to the engine room. He could not understand why all the mommy-daddy talk put such a spring in her step.

The krogan found himself patting at his belt holster, checking that his combat knife was securely sheathed.

The SSV Normandy was in pristine condition. Shepard would have felt perfectly comfortable dining right off the deck floor; in fact, she was secretly devoted to the three-second rule. Officers under her command also maintained a comparable level of military cleanliness, though she rarely made direct physical contact with them. For this reason, she was often comfortable sleeping in her navy blue fatigues.

Having resolved all necessary business and completing her after-action report, Shepard's aching legs found temporary relief on the firm frame of her mattress. Sleep, however, did not come as easily as she had hoped. Vivid flashes of light and deafening mechanical war cries always seemed to lurk in her mind. The nightmares were most noticeable when she first began to drift off, or in the moments before waking. Chakwas had offered her a mild sleep aid, but Shepard declined. She rarely accepted medications of any kind unless she deemed them necessary.

_Damn Protheans._

Sleep disturbances were becoming increasingly problematic for the spectre. She knew that if the dreams did not subside soon, it might affect her performance. She was not so prideful as to turn down a sedative at the risk of mission objectives. Still, she knew the significance of the images that the Prothean beacon branded upon her brain. They were always the same, violent and disturbing, but using drugs to diminish their intensity might similarly hamper their ability to gather clues.

As such, there was no rest Commander Shepard.

Stress was a frequent problem for the first human spectre, but she typically kept it at bay by savoring the quiet moments. Conversation between crewmates was typically beneficial for all parties involved, but Shepard was not feeling especially sociable at the moment. This must have been how Liara often felt, sitting alone in the dark bowls of a strange vessel.

_Poor girl._

Although the asari was many years older than Shepard, she could not shake the feeling that Liara had orphaned through her own actions. Intellectually, Shepard knew that she had not been at fault. There did not seem to be any means of preventing Benezia's death, and Shepard kept herself calm by soaking in the knowledge that the matriarch was now at peace among the stars. No wonder she had refused Shepard's offer of first aid; she loved peace far more than her own life. The great mother had passed beyond the universe, far outside of Saren's comparably minor influence. Liara T'Soni was the matriarch's crowning legacy.

Even in her indoctrinated state, ancient wisdom poured from the matriarch. She had been right. Shepard did not know the privilege of being a mother. Not yet, anyway.

_I wanted to know more about you._

Respiration became steady, and she embraced the tropical colors of her dreams. Shepard swam through the blue of an enlarged iris, but the eyes were not Benezia's.

Chief Engineer Adams knew better than to question the quarian. Initially, he'd been a little concerned that the alien crewmember possessed greater mechanical genius than any engineer working under him. The faceless little girl didn't scare him, but if it came down to it, there was a good chance Shepard would prefer the company of an absurdly talented quarian over some worn out human. Tali was fast in every sense of the word, not to mention combat-ready. Adams wasn't getting any younger.

That was some time ago, before he knew what kind of person Shepard was. She didn't put the cause before the people; in Shepard's book, the people were the cause. So far, it had served her pretty damn well. She treated her crewmates as friends, not a disposable set of tools. He was sure he would follow the commander to his death if she asked him. If he died, Tali would make a sublime replacement.

Adams glanced away from the control panel. Her little frame was hunched beside a manual control lever, which dangled precariously from its base. Why couldn't she just give up on that little thing? Tali often seemed to overwork herself. He knew the quarian disliked patronization, but he still felt responsible for her.

"Hey, what's this?" Tali cautiously inspected the small toolbox that rested at her feet. Adams guessed the quarian had noticed it sooner, but didn't want to offend anyone by pointing it out or complaining that it was an obstacle in her way. She was cute like that.

"Not sure", Adams spoke strangely during his yawn. "Chief Williams dropped it off while you were ashore".

The quarian pawed gently through the contents of the box with one slender hand. There was enough scrap metal here to sustain her new omni-tool for days, maybe even a whole month if she budgeted her use. She usually did.

Several sentences were scrawled onto the side of the toolbox. The quarian tilted it slightly until the engine room's powerful lights struck clarity upon the message.

"Dear Tali", it read. "This should hold you over. Keep your filthy hands off my workbench, or you'll be back in medbay in no time flat. Love, Ash".

Although her people rarely trivialized violent action, Tali couldn't help grinning at the dark humor of the note. She would thank Ashley as soon as possible. For now, she was eager to put her newest gift to good use.


End file.
